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TUFTS   UNIVERSITY   LIBRARIES 


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Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 

Cummings  School  c^  Votennary  Medicine  at 

Tufts  University 

200  Westboro  Road 

North  Grafton,  MA  01536 


RANCH    LIFE 


AND 


THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


RANCH  LIFE 


AND 


THE  HUNTING-TRAIL 


THEODORE    ROOSEVELT 

AUTHOR   OF    "hunting   TRIPS   OF    A    RANCHMAN," 
PRESIDENT  OF  THE    BOONE   AND   CROCKETT  CLUB   OF   NEW-YORK, 
HONORARY    MEMBER    OF    THE    LONDON    ALPINE   CLUB,    ETC.,    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 

FREDERIC    REMINGTON 


l?r,.,a.. 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1899 


Copyright,  1888,  by  The  Century  Co. 


The  OeVihhe  Press. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS 


Frontispiece,  the  round-up. 


I.  The  Cattle  Country  of  the  Far  West 


Illustrations  :  a  study  from  life— initial— an  exploring  outfit— the  mid- 
day MEAL— THE   OUTLYING   CAMP— COWBOY  FUN— IN  A    BOG-HOLE— TAIL-PIECE. 


II.  Out  on  the  Range 15 

Illustrations:  the  branding  chute— initial  — pulling  a  coiv  out  of  the 

MUD  — A    dispute   OVER   A    BRAND  — BRONCO-BUSTERS  SADDLING.-TAIL-PIECE. 


III.  The  Home  Ranch 25 

Illustrations:  ponies  pawing  in  the  snow— initial  — elk  horn  ranch 
buildings  —  roping  in  a  horse-corral  — a  deep  ford  — a  hard  trail— in 
with  the  horse  herd  — a  bucking  bronco  —  cruising  for  stock— tail- 
piece,   old-style  texan  cowman. 


IV.  The  Round-Up 45 

Illustrations:  broncos  and  timber  wolves  — initial  — driving  to  the 
round-up— saddling  fresh  horses —trailing  cattle— the  rope  corral 
—  cutting  out  a  steer  -  branding  a  calf— branding  a  horse— the  herd 
at  night— in  a  stampede —tail-piece,  roped.'  — a  texan  pony. 


V.  Winter  Weather 73 

Illustrations:  line  riding  jn  winter  — initial  — cattle  drifting  before 
the  storm— tail-piece  — horse  of  the  canadian  northwest. 


VI.  Frontier  Types 


Illustrations  :  the  fugitive— initial,  a  Mexican  vaquero—a  french-cana- 
dian  trapper  — a  fight  in  the  street— making  a  tenderfoot  dance  - 
painting  the  town  red  — a  row  in  a  cattle  town— the  magic  of  the 
drop— tail-piece,  which  is  the  bad  man? 


Vll.  Red  and  White  on  the  Border 10 1 

Illustrations:  sign  language— initial,  the  peace  sign— standing  off  In- 
dians—an  EPISODE  IN  THE  OPENING  UP  OF  A  CATTLE  COUNTRY— TAIL-PIECE, 
one   OF  THE  BOYS— THE  INDIAN  PONY. 


\'III.  Sheriff's  Work  ox  a  Ranch 


III 


Illustrations:  ax  old-time  mouxtain  man  with  his  ponies -initial  — the 
caftcre  of  the  german:  -'hands  up.'"— the  capture  of  finnigan—"  take 
off  your  boots.'"  — doivn-stream— on  guard  at  night— "a  sharp  prelim- 
inary tussle"  — on  the  road  to  dickinson  —  tail-piece,  a  texan  cowboy 
—  an  agenci'  policeman. 


IX.  The  Ranchman's  Rifle  on  Crag  and  Prairie 131 

Illustrations:  an  elk— i-xitial  — bringing  home  the  game— a  prong-horn 
buck  risits  camp— the  buck  overtaken— tail-piece,  our  camp  — mountain 
lions  at  the  deer  cache. 


X.  The  Wapiti,  or  Round-Horned  Elk       147 

Illustrations:  our  elk  outfit  at  the  ford  — i ail-piece  — heralding  the 

SUNRISE. 


XI.  The  Big-Horn  Sheep       153 

Illustrations  :  a  mountain  hunter— shot/— tail-piece,  a  Montana  cowboy. 


XII.  The  Game  of  the  High  Peaks:   The  White  Goat     ....     171 
Illustrations:  a  pony  of  the  northern  rockies — initial— in  a  canon  of 

the  CCEUR  D'ALiNE  —  DOWN  BRAKES/— THE  INDIANS  WE  MET— THE  FIRST  SHOT 
—  STALKING   GOATS— THE    WHITE   GOAT  AT  HOME —TAIL-PIECE,  ADIOS. 


1    ,/-' 


'•Ob,  our  manhood's  prime  vigor  !  No  ^ir it  feels  Wcnte, 
Not  a  mwscle  is  stopped  in  its  ptaying  nor  sinew  unbraced. 
Oh,  the  wild  joys  of  living!  the  leaping  from  rock  up  to  rock. 
The  strong  rending  of  boughs  from  the  fir-tree,  the  cool  silver  shock 
Of  the  plunge  in  a  pool's  living  water,  the  hunt  of  the  bear, 
And  the  sleep  in  the  dried  river- channel  where  bulrushes  tell 
That  the  water  was  wont  to  go  warbling  so  softly  and  well. 
How  good  is  man's  life,  the  mere  living." 


BROWNING. 


RANCH  LIFE  AND  THE  HUNTING-TRAIL 


A    STUDY     FROM     LIFE. 


RANCH  LIFE  AND  THE  HUNTING-TRAIL 


V  The  Cattle  Country  of  the  Far  West 


-■i^"i  HE  trreat  prazine  lands  of  the  West  lie  in  what  is  known 
-^  as  the  arid  belt,  which  stretches  from  British  America  on 
the  north  to  Mexico  on  the  south,  through  the  middle  of  the 
United  States.  It  includes  New  Mexico,  part  of  Arizona, 
Colorado,  Wyoming,  Montana,  and  the  western  portion  of 
Texas,  Kansas,  Nebraska,  and  Dakota.  It  must  not  be  understood  by 
this  that  more  cattle  are  to  be  found  here  than  elsewhere,  for  the  contrary 
is  true,  it  being  a  fact  often  lost  sight  of  that  the  number  of  cattle  raised 
on  the  small,  thick-lying  farms  of  the  fertile  Eastern  States  is  actually 
many  times  greater  than  that  of  those  scattered  over  the  vast,  barren 
ranches  of  the  far  West;  for  stock  will  always  be  most  plentiful  in  districts 
where  corn  and  other  winter  food  can  be  grown.  But  in  this  arid  belt, 
and  in  this  arid  belt  only, — save  in  a  few  similar  tracts  on  the  Pacific 
slope, — stock-raising  is  almost  the  sole  industry,  except  in  the  mountain 
districts  where  there  is  mining.  The  whole  region  is  one  vast  stretch  of 
grazing  country,  with  only  here  and  there  spots  of  farm-land,  in  most 
places  there  being  nothing  more  like  agriculture  than  is  implied  in  the 
cutting  of  some  tons  of  wild  hay  or  the  planting  of  a  garden  patch  for 
home  use.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  northern  portion  of  the  region, 
which  comprises  the  basin  of  the  Upper  Missouri,  and  with  which  alone  I 
am  familiar.  Here  there  are  no  fences  to  speak  of,  and  all  the  land  north 
of  the  Black  Hills  and  the  Big  Horn  Mountains  and  between  the  Rockies 
and  the  Dakota  wheat-fields  might  be  spoken  of  as  one  gigantic,  unbroken 
pasture,  where  cowboys  and  branding-irons  take  the  place  of  fences. 


2  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

The  country  throughout  this  great  Upper  Missouri  basin  has  a  won- 
derful sameness  of  character ;  and  the  rest  of  the  arid  belt,  lying  to  the 
southward,  is  closely  akin  to  it  in  its  main  features.  A  traveler  seeing  it 
for  the  first  time  is  especially  struck  by  its  look  of  parched,  barren  desola- 
tion ;  he  can  with  difhculty  believe  that  it  will  support  cattle  at  all.  It  is 
a  region  of  light  rainfall ;  the  grass  is  short  and  comparatively  scanty;  there 
is  no  timber  except  along  the  beds  of  the  streams,  and  in  many  places 
there  are  alkali  deserts  where  nothing  grows  but  sage-brush  and  cactus. 
Xow  the  land  stretches  out  into  level,  seemingly  endless  plains  or  into 
rolling  prairies ;  again  it  is  broken  by  abrupt  hills  and  deep,  winding  val- 
leys ;  or  else  it  is  crossed  by  chains  of  buttes,  usually  bare,  but  often  clad 
with  a  dense  growth  of  dwarfed  pines  or  gnarled,  stunted  cedars.  The 
muddy  rivers  run  in  broad,  shallow  beds,  which  after  heavy  rainfalls  are 
filled  to  the  brim  by  the  swollen  torrents,  while  in  droughts  the  larger 
streams  dwindle  into  sluggish  trickles  of  clearer  water,  and  the  smaller 
ones  dry  up  entirely,  save  in  occasional  deep  pools. 

All  through  the  region,  except  on  the  great  Indian  reservations,  there 
has  been  a  scanty  and  sparse  settlement,  quite  peculiar  in  its  character. 
In  the  forest  the  woodchopper  comes  first;  on  the  fertile  prairies  the 
granger  is  the  pioneer ;  but  on  the  long,  stretching  uplands  of  the  far 
West  it  is  the  men  who  guard  and  follow  the  horned  herds  that  prepare 
the  way  for  the  settlers  who  come  after.  The  high  plains  of  the  Upper 
Missouri  and  its  tributary  rivers  were  first  opened,  and  are  still  held,  by 
the  stockmen,  and  the  whole  civilization  of  the  region  has  received  the 
stamp  of  their  marked  and  individual  characteristics.  They  were  from 
the  South,  not  from  the  East,  although  many  men  from  the  latter  region 
came  out  along  the  great  transcontinental  railway  lines  and  joined  them 
in  their  northern  migration. 

They  were  not  dwellers  in  towns,  and  from  the  nature  of  their  indus- 
try lived  as  far  apart  from  each  other  as  possible.  In  choosing  new  ranges, 
old  cow-hands,  who  are  also  seasoned  plainsmen,  are  invariably  sent  ahead, 
perhaps  a  year  in  advance,  to  spy  out  the  land  and  pick  the  best  places. 
One  of  these  may  go  by  himself,  or  more  often,  especially  if  they  have  to 
penetrate  little  known  or  entirely  unknown  tracts,  two  or  three  will  go 
together,  the  owner  or  manager  of  the  herd  himself  being  one  of  them. 
Perhaps  their  herds  may  already  be  on  the  border  of  the  wild  and  unin- 
habited country  :  in  that  case  they  may  have  to  take  but  a  few  days'  jour- 
ney before  finding  the  stretches  of  sheltered,  long-grass  land  that  they 
seek.  For  instance,  when  I  wished  to  move  my  own  elkhorn  steer  brand 
on  to  a  new  ranch  I  had  to  spend  barely  a  week  in  traveling  north  among 


THE    CATTLE    COUNTRY    OF    THE    FAR    WEST  3 

the  Little  Missouri  Bad  Lands  before  finding  what  was  then  untrodden 
ground  far  outside  the  range  of  any  of  my  neighbors'  cattle.  But  if  a 
large  outfit  is  going  to  shift  its  quarters  it  must  go  much  farther ;  and  both 


AN    EXPLORING    OUTFIT. 


the  necessity  and  the  chance  for  long  wanderings  were  especially  great 
when  the  final  overthrow  of  the  northern  Horse  Indians  opened  the  whole 
Upper  Missouri  basin  at  one  sweep  to  the  stockmen.  Then  the  advance- 
guards  or  explorers,  each  on  one  horse  and  leading  another  with  food  and 
bedding,  were  often  absent  months  at  a  time,  threading  their  way  through 
the  trackless  wastes  of  plain,  plateau,  and  river-bottom.  If  possible  they 
would  choose  a  country  that  would  be  good  for  winter  and  summer  alike  ; 
but  often  this  could  not  be  done,  and  then  they  would  try  to  find  a  well- 
watered  tract  on  which  the  cattle  could  be  summered,  and  from  which  they 


1  RANCH    Lll'E    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

could  be  driven  in  tall  to  their  sheltered  winter  range — for  the  cattle  in 
winter  eat  snow,  and  an  entirely  waterless  region,  if  broken,  and  with 
good  pasturage,  is  often  the  best  possible  winter  ground,  as  it  is  sure  not 
to  have  been  eaten  off  at  all  during  the  summer;  while  in  the  bottoms  the 
grass  is  always  cropped  down  soonest.  Many  outfits  regularly  shift  their 
herds  every  spring  and  fall ;  but  with  us  in  the  Bad  Lands  all  we  do,  when 
cold  weather  sets  in,  is  to  drive  our  beasts  off  the  scantily  grassed  river- 
bottom  back  ten  miles  or  more  among  the  broken  buttes  and  plateaus  of 
the  uplands  to  where  the  brown  hay,  cured  on  the  stalk,  stands  thick  in  the 
winding  coulees. 

These  lookouts  or  forerunners  having  returned,  the  herds  are  set  in 
motion  as  early  in  the  spring  as  may  be,  so  as  to  get  on  the  ground  in 
time  to  let  the  travel-worn  beasts  rest  and  tjain  flesh  before  winter  sets  in. 
Each  herd  is  accompanied  by  a  dozen,  or  a  score,  or  a  couple  of  score,  of 
cowboys,  according  to  its  size,  and  beside  it  rumble  and  jolt  the  heavy 
four-horse  wagons  that  hold  the  food  and  bedding  of  the  men  and  the  few 
implements  they  will  need  at  the  end  of  their  journey.  As  long  as  possi- 
ble they  follow  the  trails  made  by  the  herds  that  have  already  traveled  in 
the  same  direction,  and  when  these  end  they  strike  out  for  themselves. 
In  the  Upper  Missouri  basin,  the  pioneer  herds  soon  had  to  scatter  out 
and  each  find  its  own  way  among  the  great  dreary  solitudes,  creeping 
carefully  along  so  that  the  cattle  should  not  be  overdriven  and  should  have 
water  at  the  halting-places.  An  outfit  might  thus  be  months  on  its  lonely 
journey,  slowly  making  its  way  over  melancholy,  pathless  plains,  or  down 
the  valleys  of  the  lonely  rivers.  It  was  tedious,  harassing  work,  as  the 
weary  cattle  had  to  be  driven  carefully  and  quietly  during  the  day  and 
strictly  guarded  at  night,  with  a  perpetual  watch  kept  for  Indians  or  white 
horse-thieves.  Often  they  would  skirt  the  edges  of  the  streams  for  days 
at  a  time,  seeking  for  a  ford  or  a  good  swimming  crossing,  and  if  the 
water  was  up  and  the  quicksand  deep  the  danger  to  the  riders  was  serious 
and  the  risk  of  loss  among  the  cattle  very  great. 

At  last,  after  days  of  excitement  and  danger  and  after  months  of  weary, 
monotonous  toil,  the  chosen  ground  is  reached  and  the  final  camp  pitched. 
The  footsore  animals  are  turned  loose  to  shift  for  themselves,  outlying 
camps  of  two  or  three  men  each  being  established  to  hem  them  in. 
Meanwhile  the  primitive  ranch-house,  out-buildings,  and  corrals  are  built, 
the  unhewn  cottonwood  logs  being  chinked  with  moss  and  mud,  while  the 
roofs  are  of  branches  covered  with  dirt,  spades  and  axes  being  the  only 
tools  needed  for  the  work.  Bunks,  chairs,  and  tables  are  all  home-made, 
and  as  rough  as  the  houses  they  are  in.     The  supplies  of  coarse,  rude  food 


THE    CATTLE    COUNTRY    OF   THE    FAR    WEST 


THE    MIDDAY    MEAL. 


are  carried  perhaps  two  or  three  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  town, 
either  in  the  ranch-wagons  or  else  by  some  regular  freighting  outfit,  the 
huge  canvas-topped  prairie  schooners  of  which  are  each  drawn  by  several 
yoke  of  oxen,  or  perhaps  by  six  or  eight  mules.  To  guard  against  the 
numerous  mishaps  of  prairie  travel,  two  or  three  of  these  prairie  schooners 
usually  go  together,  the  brawny  teamsters,  known  either  as  "bull-whack- 
ers "  or  as  "  mule-skinners,"  stalking  beside  their  slow-moving  teams. 

The  small  outlying  camps  are  often  tents,  or  mere  dug-outs  in  the 
ground.  But  at  the  main  ranch  there  will  be  a  cluster  of  log  buildings, 
including  a  separate  cabin  for  the  foreman  or  ranchman  ;  often  another 
in  which  to  cook  and  eat ;  a  long  house  for  the  men  to  sleep  in  ;  stables, 
sheds,  a  blacksmith's  shop,  etc., — the  whole  group  forming  quite  a  little 
settlement,  with  the  corrals,  the  stacks  of  natural  hay,  and  the  patches  of 
fenced  land  for  gardens  or  horse  pastures.  This  little  settlement  may  be 
situated  right  out  in  the  treeless,  nearly  level  open,  but  much  more  often 
is  placed  in  the  partly  wooded  bottom  of  a  creek  or  river,  sheltered  by  the 
usual  background  of  somber  brown  hills. 


6  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

When  the  northern  plains  began  to  be  settled,  such  a  ranch  would 
at  first  be  absolutely  alone  in  the  wilderness,  but  others  of  the  same  sort 
were  sure  soon  to  be  established  within  twenty  or  thirty  miles  on  one  side 
or  the  other.  The  lives  of  the  men  in  such  places  were  strangely  cut  off 
trom  the  outside  world,  and,  indeed,  the  same  is  true  to  a  hardly  less 
extent  at  the  present  day.  Sometimes  the  wagons  are  sent  for  provisions, 
and  the  beef-steers  are  at  stated  times  driven  off  for  shipment.  Parties 
ot  hunters  and  trappers  call  now  and  then.  More  rarely  small  bands  of 
emigrants  go  by  in  search  of  new  homes,  impelled  by  the  restless,  aimless 
craving  for  change  so  deeply  grafted  in  the  breast  of  the  American  bor- 
derer:  the  white-topped  wagons  are  loaded  with  domestic  goods,  with 
sallow,  dispirited-looking  women,  and  with  tow-headed  children;  while 
the  gaunt,  moody  frontiersmen  slouch  alongside,  rifle  on  shoulder,  lank, 
homely,  uncouth,  and  yet  with  a  curious  suggestion  of  grim  strength  under- 
lying it  all.  Or  cowboys  from  neighboring  ranches  will  ride  over,  looking 
lor  lost  horses,  or  seeing  if  their  cattle  have  strayed  off  the  range.  But 
this  is  all.  Civilization  seems  as  remote  as  if  we  were  living  in  an  age 
long  past.  The  whole  existence  is  patriarchal  in  character :  it  is  the  life 
of  men  who  live  in  the  open,  who  tend  their  herds  on  horseback,  who  go 
armed  and  ready  to  guard  their  lives  by  their  own  prowess,  whose  wants 
are  very  simple,  and  who  call  no  man  master.  Ranching  is  an  occupation 
like  those  of  vigorous,  primitive  pastoral  peoples,  having  little  in  common 
with  the  humdrum,  workaday  business  world  of  the  nineteenth  century ; 
and  the  free  ranchman  in  his  manner  of  life  shows  more  kinship  to  an 
Arab  sheik  than  to  a  sleek  city  merchant  or  tradesman. 

By  degrees  the  country  becomes  what  in  a  stock-raising  region  passes 
tor  well  settled.  In  addition  to  the  great  ranches  smaller  ones  are  estab- 
lished, with  a  few  hundred,  or  even  a  few  score,  head  of  cattle  apiece ; 
and  now  and  then  miserable  farmers  straggle  in  to  fight  a  losing  and 
desperate  battle  with  drought,  cold,  and  grasshoppers.  The  wheels  of 
the  heavy  wagons,  driven  always  over  the  same  course  from  one  ranch  to 
another,  or  to  the  remote  frontier  towns  from  which  they  get  their  goods, 
wear  ruts  in  the  soil,  and  roads  are  soon  formed,  perhaps  originally  follow- 
ing the  deep  trails  made  by  the  vanished  buffalo.  These  roads  lead  down 
the  river-bottoms  or  along  the  crests  of  the  divides  or  else  strike  out 
fairly  across  the  prairie,  and  a  man  may  sometimes  journey  a  hundred  miles 
along  one  without  coming  to  a  house  or  a  camp  of  any  sort.  If  they  lead 
to  a  shipping  point  whence  the  beeves  are  sent  to  market,  the  cattle, 
traveling  in  single  file,  will  have  worn  many  and  deep  paths  on  each  side 
of  the  wheel-marks  ;   and  the   roads  between  important  places  which  are 


THE    CATTLE    COUNTRY    OF   THE    FAR   WEST  7 

regularly  used  either  by  the  United  States  Government,  by  stage-coach 
lines,  or  by  freight  teams  become  deeply  worn  landmarks — as,  for  in- 
stance, near  us,  the  Deadvvood  and  the  old  Fort  Keogh  trails. 

Cattle-ranching  can  only  be  carried  on  in  its  present  form  while  the 
population  is  scanty;  and  so  in  stock-raising  regions,  pure  and  simple,  there 
are  usually  few  towns,  and  these  are  almost  always  at  the  shipping  points 
for  cattle.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  wealthy  cattlemen,  like  miners  who 
have  done  well,  ahvays  spend  their  money  freely ;  and  accordingly  towns 
like  Denver,  Cheyenne,  and  Helena,  where  these  two  classes  are  the  most 
influential  in  the  community,  are  far  pleasanter  places  of  residence  than 
cities  of  five  times  their  population  in  the  exclusively  agricultural  States 
to  the  eastward. 

A  true  "cow  town"  is  worth  seeing, — such  a  one  as  Miles  City,  for 
instance,  especially  at  the  time  of  the  annual  meeting  of  the  great  Mon- 
tana Stock-raisers'  Association.  Then  the  whole  place  is  full  to  over- 
flowing, the  importance  of  the  meeting  and  the  fun  of  the  attendant  frolics, 
especially  the  horse-races,  drawing  from  the  surrounding  ranch  country 
many  hundreds  of  men  of  every  degree,  from  the  rich  stock-owner  worth 
his  millions  to  the  ordinary  cowboy  who  works  for  forty  dollars  a  month. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  imagine  a  more  typically  American  assemblage, 
for  although  there  are  always  a  certain  number  of  foreigners,  usually 
English,  Irish,  or  German,  yet  they  have  become  completely  American- 
ized; and  on  the  whole  it  would  be  difficult  to  gather  a  finer  body  of  men, 
in  spite  of  their  numerous  shortcomings.  The  ranch-owners  differ  more 
from  each  other  than  do  the  cowboys ;  and  the  former  certainly  compare 
very  favorably  with  similar  classes  of  capitalists  in  the  East.  Anything 
more  foolish  than  the  demagogic  outcry  against  "cattle  kings"  it  would 
be  difficult  to  imagine.  Indeed,  there  are  very  few  businesses  so  abso- 
lutely legitimate  as  stock-raising  and  so  beneficial  to  the  nation  at  large  ; 
and  a  successful  stock-grower  must  not  only  be  shrewd,  thrifty,  patient, 
and  enterprising,  but  he  must  also  possess  qualities  of  personal  bravery, 
hardihood,  and  self-reliance  to  a  degree  not  demanded  in  the  least  by  any 
mercantile  occupation  in  a  community  long  settled.  Stockmen  are  in  the 
West  the  pioneers  of  civilization,  and  their  daring  and  adventurousness 
make  the  after  settlement  of  the  region  possible.  The  w^hole  country 
owes  them  a  great  debt. 

The  most  successful  ranchmen  are  those,  usually  South-westerners, 
who  have  been  bred  to  the  business  and  have  grown  up  with  it;  but  many 
Eastern  men,  including  not  a  few  college  graduates,  have  also  done 
excellently  by  devoting  their  w^hole  time    and   energy  to  their  work, — 


8  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THK    HUNTING-TRAIL 

although  Easterners  who  invest  their  money  in  cattle  without  knowing 
anything  of  the  business,  or  who  trust  all  to  their  subordinates,  are  natu- 
rally enough  likel)-  to  incur  heavy  losses.      Stockmen  are  learning  more 


THE    OUTL\  i;,i.    LAMl', 


and  more  to  act  together ;  and  certainly  the  meetings  of  their  associations 
are  conducted  with  a  dignity  and  good  sense  that  would  do  credit  to  any 
parliamentary  body. 

But  the  cowboys  resemble  one  another  much  more  and  outsiders 
much  less  than  is  the  case  even  with  their  employers,  the  ranchmen.  A 
town  in  the  cattle  country,  when  for  some  cause  it  is  thronged  with  men 
from  the  neighborhood,  always  presents  a  picturesque  sight.  On  the 
wooden  sidewalks  of  the  broad,  dusty  streets  the  men  who  ply  the  various 
industries  known  only  to  frontier  existence  jostle  one  another  as  they 
saunter  to  and  fro  or  lounge  lazily  in  front  of  the  straggling,  cheap-look- 
ing board  houses.  Hunters  come  in  from  the  plains  and  the  mountains, 
clad  in  buckskin  shirts  and  fur  caps,  greasy  and  unkempt,  but  with  resolute 
faces  and  sullen,  watchful  eyes,  that  are  ever  on  the  alert.  The  teamsters, 
surly  and  self-contained,  wear  slouch  hats  and  great  cowhide  boots ; 
while  the  stage-drivers,  their  faces  seamed  by  the  hardship  and  exposure 
of  their  long  drives   with    every   kind   of  team,    through   every   kind   of 


THE    CATTLE    COUNIRY    OF    rilK    FAR   WEST  n 

country,  and  in  every  kind  of  weather,  proud  of  their  really  wonderful 
skill  as  reinsmen  and  conscious  of  their  high  standing  in  any  frontier 
community,  look  down  on  and  sneer  at  the  "skin  hunters"  and  the 
plodding  drivers  of  the  white-topped  prairie  schooners.  Besides  these 
there  are  trappers,  and  wolfers,  whose  business  is  to  poison  wolves,  with 
shaggy,  knock-kneed  ponies  to  carry  their  small  bales  and  bundles  of 
furs  —  beaver,  wolf,  fox,  and  occasionally  otter;  and  silent  sheep-herders, 
with  cast-down  faces,  never  able  to  forget  the  absolute  solitude  and 
monotony  of  their  dreary  lives,  nor  to  rid  their  minds  of  the  thought 
of  the  woolly  idiots  they  pass  all  their  days  in  tending.  Such  are  the 
men  who  have  come  to  town,  either  on  business  or  else  to  frequent  the 
flaunting  saloons  and  gaudy  hells  of  all  kinds  in  search  of  the  coarse, 
vicious  excitement  that  in  the  minds  of  many  of  them  does  duty  as 
pleasure  —  the  only  form  of  pleasure  they  have  ever  had  a  chance  to 
know.  Indians  too,  wrapped  in  blankets,  with  stolid,  emotionless  faces, 
stalk  silently  round  among  the  whites,  or  join  in  the  gambling  and  horse- 
racing.  If  the  town  is  on  the  borders  of  the  mountain  country,  there  will 
also  be  sinewy  lumbermen,  rough-looking  miners,  and  packers,  whose 
business  it  is  to  guide  the  long  mule  and  pony  trains  that  go  where 
wagons  can  not  and  whose  work  in  packing  needs  special  and  peculiar 
skill ;  and  mingled  with  and  drawn  from  all  these  classes  are  desperadoes 
of  every  grade,  from  the  gambler  up  through  the  horse-thief  to  the  mur- 
derous professional  bully,  or,  as  he  is  locally  called,  ''bad  man" — now, 
however,  a  much  less  conspicuous  object  than  formerly. 

But  everywhere  among  these  plainsmen  and  mountain-men,  and  more 
important  than  any,  are  the  cowboys, —  the  men  who  follow  the  calling 
that  has  brought  such  towns  into  being.  Singly,  or  in  twos  or  threes, 
they  gallop  their  wiry  little  horses  down  the  street,  their  lithe,  supple  fig- 
ures erect  or  swaying  slightly  as  they  sit  loosely  in  the  saddle;  while 
their  stirrups  are  so  long  that  their  knees  are  hardly  bent,  the  bridles  not 
taut  enough  to  keep  the  chains  from  clanking.  They  are  smaller  and 
less  muscular  than  the  wielders  of  ax  and  pick ;  but  they  are  as  hardy 
and  self-reliant  as  any  men  who  ever  breathed  —  with  bronzed,  set  faces, 
and  keen  eyes  that  look  all  the  world  straight  in  the  face  without  flinch- 
ing as  they  flash  out  from  under  the  broad-brimmed  hats.  Peril  and 
hardship,  and  years  of  long  toil  broken  by  weeks  of  brutal  dissipation, 
draw  haggard  lines  across  their  eager  faces,  but  never  dim  their  reckless 
eyes  nor  break  their  bearing  of  defiant  self-confidence.  They  do  not 
walk  well,  partly  because  they  so  rarely  do  any  work  out  of  the  saddle, 
partly  because  their  chaperajos  or  leather  overalls  hamper  them  when  on 


IQ  RAXril    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING- TRAIL 

the  ground ;  but  their  appearance  is  striking  for  all  that,  and  picturesque 
too,  w  ith  their  jingling  spurs,  the  big  revolvers  stuck  in  their  belts,  and 
bright  silk  handkerchiefs  knotted  loosely  round  their  necks  over  the  open 
collars  of  the  flannel  shirts.  When  drunk  on  the  villainous  whisky  of  the 
frontier  towns,  they  cut  mad  antics,  riding  their  horses  into  the  saloons, 
firing  their  pistols  right  and  left,  from  boisterous  light-heartedness  rather 
than  from  any  viciousness,  and  indulging  too  often  in  deadly  shooting 
affrays,  brought  on  either  by  the  accidental  contact  of  the  moment  or  on 
account  of  some  long-standing  grudge,  or  perhaps  because  of  bad  blood 
between  two  ranches  or  localities ;  but  except  while  on  such  sprees  they 
are  quiet,  rather  self-contained  men,  perfectly  frank  and  simple,  and  on 
their  own  ground  treat  a  stranger  with  the  most  whole-souled  hospitality, 
doing  all  in  their  power  for  him  and  scorning  to  take  any  reward  in  return. 
Although  prompt  to  resent  an  injury,  they  are  not  at  all  apt  to  be  rude 
to  outsiders,  treating  them  with  what  can  almost  be  called  a  grave  court- 
esy. They  are  much  better  fellow^s  and  pleasanter  companions  than  small 
farmers  or  agricultural  laborers  ;  nor  are  the  mechanics  and  workmen  of 
a  great  city  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath. 

The  bulk  of  the  cowboys  themselves  are  South-westerners  ;  but  there 
are  also  many  from  the  Eastern  and  the  Northern  States,  who,  if  they  begin 
young,  do  quite  as  well  as  the  Southerners.  The  best  hands  are  fairly 
bred  to  the  work  and  follow  it  from  their  youth  up.  Nothing  can  be  more 
foolish  than  for  an  Easterner  to  think  he  can  become  a  cowboy  in  a  few 
months'  time.  Many  a  young  fellow  comes  out  hot  with  enthusiasm  for 
life  on  the  plains,  only  to  learn  that  his  clumsiness  is  greater  than  he 
could  have  believed  possible ;  that  the  cowboy  business  is  like  any  other 
and  has  to  be  learned  by  serving  a  painful  apprenticeship ;  and  that  this 
apprenticeship  implies  the  endurance  of  rough  fare,  hard  living,  dirt, 
exposure  of  every  kind,  no  little  toil,  and  month  after  month  of  the  dull- 
est monotony.  For  cowboy  work  there  is  need  of  special  traits  and 
special  training,  and  young  Easterners  should  be  sure  of  themselves 
before  trying  it:  the  struggle  for  existence  is  very  keen  in  the  far  West, 
and  it  is  no  place  for  men  who  lack  the  ruder,  coarser  virtues  and  physical 
qualities,  no  matter  how  intellectual  or  how  refined  and  delicate  their 
sensibilities.  Such  are  more  likely  to  fail  there  than  in  older  communities. 
Probably  during  the  past  few  years  more  than  half  of  the  young  Eastern- 
ers who  have  come  West  with  a  little  money  to  learn  the  cattle  business 
have  failed  signally  and  lost  what  they  had  in  the  beginning.  The  West, 
especially  the  far  West,  needs  men  who  have  been  bred  on  the  farm  or  in 
the  workshop  far  more  than  it  does  clerks  or  college  graduates. 


THE    CATTLE    COUNTRY    OF    THE    FAR    WEST 


I  I 


COWBOY   FUN. 


Some  of  the  cowboys  are  Mexicans,  who  generally  do  the  actual  work 
well  enough,  but  are  not  trustworthy  ;  moreover,  they  are  always  regarded 
with  extreme  disfavor  by  the  Texans  in  an  outfit,  among  whom  the  intol- 
erant caste  spirit  is  very  strong.  Southern-born  whites  will  never  work 
under  them,  and  look  down  upon  all  colored  or  half-caste  races.  One 
spring  I  had  with  my  wagon  a  Pueblo  Indian,  an  excellent  rider  and 
roper,  but  a  drunken,  worthless,  lazy  devil;  and  in  the  summer  of  1886 
there  were  with  us  a  Sioux  half-breed,  a  quiet,  hard-working,  faithful 
fellow,  and  a  mulatto,  who  was  one  of  the  best  cow-hands  in  the  whole 
round-up. 


12 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


Cowboys,  like  most  Westerners,  occasionally  show  remarkable  versa- 
tilit)-  in  their  tastes  and  pursuits.  One  whom  I  know  has  abandoned  his 
regular  occupation  tor  the  past  nine  months,  during  which  time  he  has 
been  in  succession  a  bartender,  a  school-teacher,  and  a  probate  judge  ! 
Anodicr.  wiioin  1  once  employed  for  a  short  while,  had  passed  through 
even  more  varied  experiences,  including  those  ot  a  barber,  a  sailor,  an 
apothecary,  and  a  buftalo-hunter. 

As  a  rule  the  cowboys  are  known  to  each  other  only  by  their  first 
names,  with,  perhaps,  as  a  prefix,  the  title  of  the  brand  for  which  they  are 
working.  Thus  I  remember  once  overhearing  a  casual  remark  to  the 
effect  that  "Bar  Y  Harry"  had  married  "the  Seven  Open  A  girl,"  the 
latter  being  the  daughter  of  a  neighboring  ranchman.    Often  they  receive 


IN    A    HUG-HuLK. 


nicknames,    as,   for    instance,    Dutch    Wannigan,    Windy  Jack,    and   Kid 
Williams,  all  of  whom  are  on  the  list  of  my  personal  acquaintances. 

No  man  traveling  through  or  living  in  the  country  need  fear  molesta- 
tion from  the  cowboys  unless  he  himself  accompanies  them  on  their  drink- 
ing-bouts, or  in  other  ways  plays  the  fool,  for  they  are,  with  us  at  any 
rate,  very  good  fellows,  and  the  most  determined  and  effective  foes  of 
real  law-breakers,  such  as  horse  and  cattle  thieves,  murderers,  etc.      Few 


THE    CATTLE    COUNTRY    OF   THE    FAR   WEST  1 -. 

of  the  outrages  quoted  in  Eastern  papers  as  their  handiwork  are  such  in 
reahty,  the  average  Easterner  apparently  considering  every  individual  who 
wears  a  broad  hat  and  carries  a  six-shooter  a  cowboy.  These  outrages 
are,  as  a  rule,  the  work  of  the  roughs  and  criminals  who  always  gather  on 
the  outskirts  of  civilization,  and  who  infest  every  frontier  town  until  the 
decent  citizens  become  sufficiently  numerous  and  determined  to  take  the 
law  into  their  own  hands  and  drive  them  out.  The  old  buffalo- hunters, 
who  formed  a  distinct  class,  became  powerful  forces  for  evil  once  they  had 
destroyed  the  vast  herds  of  mighty  beasts  the  pursuit  of  which  had  been 
their  means  of  livelihood.  They  were  absolutely  shiftless  and  improvident ; 
they  had  no  settled  habits ;  they  were  inured  to  peril  and  hardship,  but 
entirely  unaccustomed  to  steady  work ;  and  so  they  afforded  just  the  ma- 
terials from  which  to  make  the  bolder  and  more  desperate  kinds  of  crim- 
inals. When  the  game  was  gone  they  hung  round  the  settlements  for 
some  little  time,  and  then  many  of  them  naturally  took  to  horse-stealing, 
cattle-killing,  and  highway  robbery,  although  others,  of  course,  went  into 
honest  pursuits.  They  were  men  who  died  off  rapidly,  however ;  for  it  is 
curious  to  see  how  many  of  these  plainsmen,  in  spite  of  their  iron  nerves 
and  thews,  have  their  constitutions  completely  undermined,  as  much  by 
the  terrible  hardships  they  have  endured  as  by  the  fits  of  prolonged  and 
bestial  revelry  with  which  they  have  varied  them. 

The  "bad  men,"  or  professional  fighters  and  man-killers,  are  of  a 
different  stamp,  quite  a  number  of  them  being,  according  to  their  light, 
perfectly  honest.  These  are  the  men  who  do  most  of  the  killing  in  fron- 
tier communities ;  yet  it  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  the  men  who  are  killed 
generally  deserve  their  fate.  These  men  are,  of  course,  used  to  brawling, 
and  are  not  only  sure  shots,  but,  what  is  equally  important,  able  to  "draw" 
their  weapons  with  marvelous  quickness.  They  think  nothing  whatever 
of  murder,  and  are  the  dread  and  terror  of  their  associates ;  yet  they  are 
very  chary  of  taking  the  life  of  a  man  of  good  standing,  and  will  often 
weaken  and  back  down  at  once  if  confronted  fearlessly.  With  many  of 
them  their  courage  arises  from  confidence  in  their  own  powers  and  knowl- 
edge of  the  fear  in  which  they  are  held  ;  and  men  of  this  type  often  show 
the  white  feather  when  they  get  in  a  tight  place.  Others,  however,  will 
face  any  odds  without  flinching;  and  I  have  known  of  these  men  fighting, 
when  mortally  wounded,  with  a  cool,  ferocious  despair  that  was  terrible. 
As  elsewhere,  so  here,  very  quiet  men  are  often  those  who  in  an  emer- 
gency show  themselves  best  able  to  hold  their  own.  These  despera- 
does always  try  to  "get  the  drop"  on  a  foe  —  that  is,  to  take  him  at  a 
disadvantage  before  he  can  use  his  own  weapon.      I  have  known  more 


14  RANCH    LIFE   AND   THE   HUNTING-TRAIL 

men  killed  in  this  way,  when  the  affair  was  wholly  one-sided,  than  I  have 
known  to  be  shot  in  fair  fight ;  and  I  have  known  fijlly  as  many  who 
were  shot  by  accident.  It  is  wonderfiil,  in  the  event  of  a  street  fight,  how 
few  bullets  seem  to  hit  the  men  they  are  aimed  at. 

During  the  last  two  or  three  years  the  stockmen  have  united  to 
put  down  all  these  dangerous  characters,  often  by  the  most  summary 
exercise  of  lynch  law.  Notorious  bullies  and  murderers  have  been 
taken  out  and  hung,  while  the  bands  of  horse  and  cattle  thieves  have 
been  regularly  hunted  down  and  destroyed  in  pitched  fights  by  parties 
of  armed  cowboys ;  and  as  a  consequence  most  of  our  territory  is  now 
perfectly  law-abiding.  One  such  fight  occurred  north  of  me  early  last 
spring.  The  horse-thieves  were  overtaken  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri ; 
two  of  their  number  were  slain,  and  the  others  were  driven  on  the  ice, 
which  broke,  and  two  more  were  drowned.  A  few  months  previously 
another  gang,  whose  headquarters  were  near  the  Canadian  line,  were 
surprised  in  their  hut ;  two  or  three  were  shot  down  by  the  cowboys  as 
they  tried  to  come  out,  while  the  rest  barricaded  themselves  in  and  fought 
until  the  great  log-hut  was  set  on  fire,  when  they  broke  forth  in  a  body, 
and  nearly  all  were  killed  at  once,  only  one  or  two  making  their  escape. 
A  little  over  two  years  ago  one  committee  of  vigilantes  in  eastern  Mon- 
tana shot  or  hung  nearly  sixty  —  not,  however,  with  the  best  judgment 
in  all  cases. 


OUT  ON  THE  RANGE 


I'  .     ■  ,  I 


THE    BRANDING   CHUTK. 


II 


Out   on   the   Range 


STRANGER  in  the  North-western  cattle  country  is 
especially  struck  by  the  resemblance  the  settlers  show- 
in  their  pursuits  and  habits  to  the  Southern   people. 
Nebraska  and  Dakota,  east  of  the  Missouri,  resem- 
ble Minnesota  and  Iowa  and  the  States  farther  east, 
l)ut  Montana  and  the  Dakota  cow  country  show 
more  kinship  with  Texas ;    for  while  elsewhere    in 
America  settlement  has  advanced  along  the  paral- 
lels of  latitude,  on  the  great  plains  it  has  followed 
meridians  of   longitude  and  has  gone  northerly   rather 
than  westerly.      The  business  is  carried  on  as  it  is  in  the 
South.     The  rough-rider  of  the  plains,  the  hero  of  rope  and 
revolver,   is  first  cousin   to  the  backwoodsman  of  the  south- 
ern Alleghanies,  the  man  of  the  ax  and  the  rifle;  he  is  only  a 
unique  offshoot  of  the  frontier  stock  of  the  South-west.     The 
very  term  "round-up"  is  used  by  the  cowboys  in   the  exact 
sense  in  which  it  is  employed  by  the  hill  people  and  mount- 
aineers  of   Kentucky,   Tennessee,   and  North   Carolina,  with  whom  also 
labor  is  dear  and  poor  land  cheap,  and  whose  few  cattle  are  consequently 
branded  and  turned  loose  in  the  woods  exactly  as  is  done  with  the  great 
herds  on  the  plains. 

But  the  ranching  industry  itself  was  copied  from  the  Mexicans,  of 
whose  land  and  herds  the  South-western  frontiersmen  of  Texas  took 
forcible  possession;  and  the  traveler  in  the  North-west  will  see  at  a 
glance  that  the  terms  and  practices  of  our  business  are  largely  of  Spanish 
origin.  The  cruel  curb-bit  and  heavy  stock-saddle,  with  its  high  horn 
and  cande,  prove  that  we  have  adopted  Spanish- American  horse-gear; 
and  the  broad  hat,  huge  blunt  spurs,  and  leather  chaperajos  of  the  rider, 
as  well  as  the  corral  in  which  the  stock  are  penned,  all  alike  show  the 
same  ancestry.      Throughout  the  catde  country  east  of  the  Rocky  Mount- 


l6  RANCH    LIFE    AM)     IHE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

ains,  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  the  Saskatchewan,  the  same  terms  are  in 
use  and  the  same  system  is  followed ;  but  on  the  Pacific  slope,  in  Califor- 
nia, there  are  certain  small  differences,  even  in  nomenclature.  Thus,  we 
of  the  great  plains  all  use  the  double  cinch  saddle,  with  one  girth  behind 
the  horse's  fore  legs  and  another  farther  back,  while  Californians  prefer 
one  with  a  single  cinch,  which  seems  to  us  much  inferior  for  stock-work. 
Again.  Californians  use  the  Spanish  word  "lasso,"  which  with  us  has  been 
entirely  dropped,  no  plainsman  with  pretensions  to  the  title  thinking  of 
anv  word  but  "rope,"  either  as  noun  or  verb. 

The  rope,  whether  leather  lariat  or  made  of  grass,  is  the  one  essential 
feature  of  every  cowboy's  equipment.  Loosely  coiled,  it  hangs  from  the 
horn  or  is  tied  to  one  side  of  the  saddle  in  front  of  the  thigh,  and  is  used 
for  every  conceivable  emergency,  a  twist  being  taken  round  the  stout 
saddle- horn  the  second  the  noose  settles  over  the  neck  or  around  the  legs 
of  a  chased  animal.  In  helping  pull  a  wagon  up  a  steep  pitch,  in  drag- 
ging an  animal  by  the  horns  out  of  a  bog-hole,  in  hauling  logs  for  the 
fire,  and  in  a  hundred  other  ways  aside  from  its  legitimate  purpose,  the 
rope  is  of  invaluable  service,  and  dexterity  with  it  is  prized  almost  or 
quite  as  highly  as  good  horsemanship,  and  is  much  rarer.  Once  a  cow- 
boy is  a  good  roper  and  rider,  the  only  other  accomplishment  he  values  is 
skill  with  his  great  army  revolver,  it  being  taken  for  granted  that  he  is 
already  a  thorough  plainsman  and  has  long  mastered  the  details  of  cattle- 
work  ;  for  the  best  roper  and  rider  alive  is  of  little  use  unless  he  is  hard- 
working, honest,  keenly  alive  to  his  employer's  interest,  and  very  careful 
in  the  management  of  the  cattle. 

All  cowboys  can  handle  the  rope  with  more  or  less  ease  and  precision, 
but  great  skill  in  its  use  is  only  attained  after  long  practice,  and  for  its 
highest  development  needs  that  the  man  should  have  begun  in  earliest 
)Outh.  Mexicans  literally  practice  from  infancy;  the  boy  can  hardly  tod- 
dle before  he  gets  a  string  and  begins  to  render  life  a  burden  to  the  hens, 
goats,  and  pigs,  A  really  first-class  roper  can  command  his  own  price, 
and  is  usually  fit  for  little  but  his  own  special  work. 

It  is  much  the  same  with  riding.  The  cowboy  is  an  excellent  rider  in 
his  own  way,  but  his  way  differs  from  that  of  a  trained  school  horseman 
or  cross-country  fox-hunter  as  much  as  it  does  from  the  horsemanship  of 
an  Arab  or  of  a  Sioux  Indian,  and,  as  with  all  these,  it  has  its  special 
merits  and  special  defects — schoolman,  fox-hunter,  cowboy,  Arab,  and 
Indian  being  all  alike  admirable  riders  in  their  respective  styles,  and  each 
cherishing  the  same  profound  and  ignorant  contempt  for  every  method  but 
his  own.     The    flash  riders,   or    horse-breakers,   always    called    "bronco 


OUT    ON    THE    RANGE 


busters,"  can  perform  really  marvelous  feats,  riding  with  ease  the  most 
vicious  and  unbroken  beasts,  that  no  ordinary  cowboy  would  dare  to 
tackle.  Although  sitting  seemingly  so  loose  in  the  saddle,  such  a  rider 
cannot  be  jarred  out  of  it  by  the  wildest  plunges,  it  being  a  favorite  feat 

to  sit  out  the  antics  of  a  buck- 
ing horse  with  silver  half-dollars 
under  each  knee  or  in  the  stirrups 
under  each  foot.  But  their  method 
of  breaking  is  very  rough,  consist- 


PULLING   A    COW   OUT   OF   THE   MUD. 


ing  only  in  saddling  and  bridling 
a  beast  by  main  force  and  then 
riding  him,  also  by  main  force, 
until  he  is  exhausted,  when  he  is 
turned  over  as  "broken."  Later 
on  the  cowboy  himself  may  train 
his  horse  to  stop  or  wheel  instantly  at  a  touch  of  the  reins  or  bit,  to  start  at 
top  speed  at  a  signal,  and  to  stand  motionless  when  left.  An  intelligent 
pony  soon  picks  up  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  about  the  cow  business  on 
his  own  account. 

All  cattle  are  branded,  usually  on  the  hip,  shoulder,  and  side,  or  on 
any  one  of  them,  with  letters,  numbers,  or  figures,  in  every  combination, 
the  outfit  being  known  by  its  brand.  Near  me,  for  instance,  are  the  Three 
Sevens,  the  Thistle,  the  Bellows,  the  OX,  the  VI.,  the  Seventy-six  Bar 
(— ),  and  the  Quarter  Circle  Diamond  (^)  outfits.  The  dew-lap  and  the 
ears  may  also  be  cut,  notched,  or  slit.  All  brands  are  registered,  and  are 
thus  protected  against  imitators,  any  man  tampering  with  them  being 
punished  as  severely  as  possible.     Unbranded  animals  are  called  niavci'icks, 


l8  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

and  when  found  on  the  round-up  are  either  branded  by  the  owner  of  the 
range  on  which  they  are,  or  else  are  sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  association. 
At  every  shipping  point,  as  well  as  where  the  beef  cattle  are  received,  there 
are  stock  inspectors  who  jealously  examine  all  the  brands  on  the  live  ani- 
mals or  on  the  hides  of  the  slaughtered  ones,  so  as  to  detect  any  foul 
pla\-,  which  is  immediately  reported  to  the  association.  It  becomes  sec- 
ond nature  with  a  cowboy  to  inspect  and  note  the  brands  of  every  bunch 
of  animals  he  comes  across. 

Perhaps  the  thing  that  seems  strangest  to  the  traveler  who  for  the  first 
time  crosses  the  bleak  plains  of  this  Upper  Missouri  grazing  country  is 
the  small  number  of  cattle  seen.  He  can  hardly  believe  he  is  in  the  great 
stock  region,  where  for  miles  upon  miles  he  will  not  see  a  single  head, 
and  will  then  come  only  upon  a  straggling  herd  of  a  few  score.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  where  there  is  no  artificial  food  put  up  for  winter  use  cattle 
always  need  a  good  deal  of  ground  per  head ;  and  this  is  peculiarly  the 
case  with  us  in  the  North-west,  where  much  of  the  ground  is  bare  of 
vegetation  and  where  what  pasture  there  is  is  both  short  and  sparse.  It 
is  a  matter  of  absolute  necessity,  where  beasts  are  left  to  shift  for  them- 
selves in  the  open  during  the  bitter  winter  weather,  that  they  then  should 
have  grass  that  they  have  not  cropped  too  far  down  ;  and  to  insure  this  it 
is  necessary  with  us  to  allow  on  the  average  about  twenty- five  acres  of 
ground  to  each  animal.  This  means  that  a  range  of  country  ten  miles 
square  will  keep  between  two  and  three  thousand  head  of  stock  only,  and 
if  more  are  put  on,  it  is  at  the  risk  of  seeing  a  severe  winter  kill  off  half 
or  three-quarters  of  the  whole  number.  So  a  range  may  be  in  reality 
overstocked  when  to  an  Eastern  and  unpracticed  eye  it  seems  hardly  to 
have  on  it  a  number  worth  taking  into  account. 

Overstocking  is  the  great  danger  threatening  the  stock-raising  indus- 
try on  the  plains.  This  industry  has  only  risen  to  be  of  more  than  local 
consequence  during  the  past  score  of  years,  as  before  that  time  it  was 
confined  to  Texas  and  California;  but  during  these  two  decades  of  its 
existence  the  stockmen  in  different  localities  have  again  and  again  suffered 
the  most  ruinous  losses,  usually  with  overstocking  as  the  ultimate  cause. 
In  the  south  the  drought,  and  in  the  north  the  deep  snows,  and  everywhere 
unusually  bad  winters,  do  immense  damage ;  still,  if  the  land  is  fitted  tor 
stock  at  all,  they  will,  averaging  one  year  with  another,  do  very  well  so 
long  as  the  feed  is  not  cropped  down  too  close. 

But,  of  course,  no  amount  of  feed  will  make  some  countries  worth  any- 
thing for  cattle  that  are  not  housed  during  the  winter ;  and  stockmen  in 
choosing  new  ranges  for  their  herds  pay  almost  as  much  attention  to  the 


OUT    ON    THE    RANGE  ig 

capacity  of  the  land  for  yielding  shelter  as  they  do  to  the  abundant  and 
good  quality  of  the  grass.  High  up  among  the  foot-hills  of  the  moun- 
tains cattle  will  not  live  through  the  winter  ;  and  an  open,  rolling  prairie 
land  of  heavy  rainfall,  where  in  consequence  the  snow  lies  deep  and 
there  is  no  protection  from  the  furious  cold  winds,  is  useless  for  winter 
grazing,  no  matter  how  thick  and  high  the  feed.  The  three  essentials  for 
a  range  are  grass,  water,  and  shelter :  the  water  is  only  needed  in  summer 
and  the  shelter  in  winter,  while  it  may  be  doubted  if  drought  during  the 
hot  months  has  ever  killed  off  more  cattle  than  have  died  of  exposure 
on  shelterless  ground  to  the  icy  weather,  lasting  from  November  to  April. 

The  finest  summer  range  may  be  valueless  either  on  account  of  its 
lack  of  shelter  or  because  it  is  in  a  region  of  heavy  snowfall  —  portions  of 
territory  lying  in  the  same  latitude  and  not  very  far  apart  often  differing 
widely  in  this  respect,  or  extraordinarily  severe  weather  may  cause  a  heavy 
death-rate  utterly  unconnected  with  overstocking.  This  was  true  of  the 
loss  that  visited  the  few  herds  which  spent  the  very  hard  winter  of  1880 
on  the  northern  cattle  plains.  These  were  the  pioneers  of  their  kind,  and 
the  grass  was  all  that  could  be  desired  ;  yet  the  extraordinary  severity 
of  the  weather  proved  too  much  for  the  cattle.  This  was  especially  the 
case  with  those  herds  consisting  of  "  pilgrims,"  as  they  are  called  —  that 
is,  of  animals  driven  up  on  to  the  range  from  the  south,  and  therefore  in 
poor  condition.  One  such  herd  of  pilgrims  on  the  Powder  River  suffered 
a  loss  of  thirty-six  hundred  out  of  a  total  of  four  thousand,  and  the  sur- 
vivors kept  alive  only  by  browsing  on  the  tops  of  cottonwoods  felled  for 
them.  Even  seasoned  animals  fared  very  badly.  One  great  herd  in  the 
Yellowstone  Valley  lost  about  a  fourth  of  its  number,  the  loss  falling  mainly 
on  the  breeding  cows,  calves,  and  bulls, —  always  the  chief  sufferers,  as  the 
steers,  and  also  the  dry  cows,  will  get  through  almost  anything.  The 
loss  here  would  have  been  far  heavier  than  it  was  had  it  not  been  for  a 
curious  trait  shown  by  the  cattle.  They  kept  in  bands  of  several  hundred 
each,  and  during  the  time  of  the  deep  snows  a  band  would  make  a 
start  and  travel  several  miles  in  a  straight  line,  plowing  their  way 
through  the  drifts  and  beating  out  a  broad  track ;  then,  when  stopped 
by  a  frozen  water-course  or  chain  of  buttes,  they  would  turn  back  and 
graze  over  the  trail  thus  made,  the  only  place  where  they  could  get  at 
the  grass. 

A  drenching  rain,  followed  by  a  severe  snap  of  cold,  is  even  more 
destructive  than  deep  snow,  for  the  saturated  coats  of  the  poor  beasts  are 
turned  into  sheets  of  icy  mail,  and  the  grass-blades,  frozen  at  the  roots  as 
well  as  above,  change  into  sheaves  of  brittle  spears  as  uneatable  as  so 


20 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUiNTING-TRAH. 


many  icicles.  Entire  herds  have  perished  in  consequence  of  such  a  storm. 
Mere  cold,  however,  will  kill  only  very  weak  animals,  which  is  fortunate 
for  us,  as  the  spirit  in  the  thermometer  during  winter  often  sinks  to  fifty 
degrees  below  zero,  the  cold  being  literally  arctic  ;  yet  though  the  cattle 
become  thin  during  such  a  snap  of  weather,  and  sometimes  have  their 
ears,  tails,  and  even  horns  frozen  off,  they  nevertheless  rarely  die  from  the 
cold  alone.      But  if  there  is  a  blizzard   blowing  at  such   a  time,  the  cattle 


A    DISPUTE    OVER    A    BRAND. 


need  shelter,  and  if  caught  in  the  open,  will  travel  for  scores  of  miles 
before  the  storm,  until  they  reach  a  break  in  the  ground,  or  some  stretch 
of  dense  woodland,  which  will  shield  them  from  the  blasts.  If  cattle  trav- 
eling in  this  manner  come  to  some  obstacle  that  they  cannot  pass,  as,  for 
instance,  a  wire  fence  or  a  steep  railway  embankment,  they  will  not  try  to 
make  their  way  back  against  the  storm,  but  will  simply  stand  with  their 
tails  to  it  until  they  drop  dead  in  their  tracks ;  and,  accordingly,  in  some 
parts  of  the  country  —  but  luckily  far  to  the  south  of  us  —  the  railways 
are  fringed  with  countless  skeletons  of  beasts  that  have  thus  perished, 
while  many  of  the  long  wire  fences  make  an  almost  equally  bad  showing. 


OUT    ON    THE    RANGE  21 

In  some  of  the  very  open  country  of  Kansas  and  Indian  Territory,  many 
of  the  herds  during  the  past  two  years  have  suffered  a  loss  of  from  sixty 
to  eighty  per  cent.,  although  this  was  from  a  variety  of  causes,  including 
drought  as  well  as  severe  wuiter  weather.  Too  much  rain  is  quite  as  bad 
as  too  little,  especially  if  it  falls  after  the  ist  of  August,  for  then,  though 
the  growth  of  grass  is  very  rank  and  luxuriant,  it  yet  has  little  strength 
and  does  not  cure  well  on  the  stalk  ;  and  it  is  only  possible  to  winter 
cattle  at  large  at  all  because  of  the  way  in  which  the  grass  turns  into 
natural  hay  by  this  curing  on  the  stalk. 

But  scantiness  of  food,  due  to  overstocking,  is  the  one  really  great 
danger  to  us  in  the  north,  who  do  not  have  to  fear  the  droughts  that 
occasionally  devastate  portions  of  the  southern  ranges.  In  a  fairly  good 
country,  if  the  feed  is  plenty,  the  natural  increase  of  a  herd  is  sure  shortly 
to  repair  any  damage  that  may  be  done  by  an  unusually  severe  winter  — 
unless,  indeed,  the  latter  should  be  one  such  as  occurs  but  two  or  three  times 
in  a  century.  When,  however,  the  grass  becomes  cropped  down,  then  the 
loss  in  even  an  ordinary  year  is  heavy  among  the  weaker  animals,  and  if 
the  winter  is  at  all  severe  it  becomes  simply  appalling.  The  snow  covers 
the  shorter  grass  much  quicker,  and  even  when  there  is  enough,  the 
cattle,  weak  and  unfit  to  travel  around,  have  to  work  hard  to  get  it;  their 
exertions  tending  to  enfeeble  them  and  to  render  them  less  able  to  cope 
with  the  exposure  and  cold.  The  large  patches  of  brushwood,  into  which 
the  cattle  crowd  and  which  to  a  small  number  afford  ample  shelter  and 
some  food,  become  trodden  down  and  yield  neither  when  the  beasts  become 
too  plentiful.  Again,  the  grass  is,  of  course,  soonest  eaten  off  where  there  is 
shelter;  and,  accordingly,  the  broken  ground  to  which  the  animals  cling 
during  winter  may  be  grazed  bare  of  vegetation  though  the  open  plains, 
to  which  only  the  hardiest  will  at  this  season  stray,  may  have  plenty  ;  and 
insufficiency  of  food,  although  not  such  as  actually  to  starve  them,  weak- 
ens them  so  that  they  succumb  readily  to  the  cold  or  to  one  of  the 
numerous  accidents  to  which  they  are  liable  —  as  slipping  off  an  icy 
butte  or  getting  cast  in  a  frozen  washout.  The  cows  in  calf  are  those 
that  suffer  most,  and  so  heavy  is  the  loss  among  these  and  so  light  the 
calf  crop  that  it  is  yet  an  open  question  whether  our  northern  ranges  are 
as  a  whole  fitted  for  breeding.  When  the  animals  get  weak  they  will 
huddle  into  some  nook  or  corner  and  simply  stay  there  till  they  die.  An 
empty  hut,  for  instance,  will  often  in  the  spring  be  found  to  contain  the 
carcasses  of  a  dozen  weak  cows  or  poor  steers  that  have  craw'led  into  it 
for  protection  from  the  cold,  and  once  in  have  never  moved  out. 

Overstocking  may  cause  little  or  no  harm  for  two  or  three  years,  but 


22 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


sooner  or  later  there  comes  a  winter  which  means  ruin  to  the  ranches  that 
have  too  many  cattle  on  them ;  and  in  our  country,  which  is  even  now 
getting"  crowded,  it  is  merely  a  question  of  time  as  to  when  a  winter  will 
come  that  will  understock  the  ranges  by  the  summary  process  of  killing 
oft'  about  half  of  all  the  cattle  throughout  the  North-west.*  The  herds 
that  have  just  been  put  on  suffer  most  in  such  a  case;  if  they  have  come 
on  late  and  are  composed  of  weak  animals,  very  few  indeed,  perhaps 
not  ten  per  cent.,  will  survive.  The  cattle  that  have  been  double  or 
single  wintered  do  better;  while  a  range-raised  steer  is  almost  as  tough 
as  a  buffalo. 

In  our  northern  country  we  have  "free  grass";  that  is,  the  stockmen 
rarely  own  more  than  small  portions  of  the  land  over  which  their  cattle 
range,  the  bulk  of  it  being  unsurveyed  and  still  the  property  of  the  Na- 
tional Government  —  for  the  latter  refuses  to  sell  the  soil  except  in  small 
lots,  acting  on  the  wise  principle  of  distributing  it  among  as  many  owners 
as  possible.  Here  and  there  some  ranchman  has  acquired  title  to  narrow 
strips  of  territory  peculiarly  valuable  as  giving  water-right ;  but  the 
amount  of  land  thus  occupied  is  small  with  us,  —  although  the  reverse  is 
the  case  farther  south,  —  and  there  is  practically  no  fencing  to  speak  ol. 
As  a  consequence,  the  land  is  one  vast  pasture,  and  the  man  who  over- 
stocks his  own  range  damages  his  neighbors  as  much  as  himself.  These 
huge  northern  pastures  are  too  dry  and  the  soil  too  poor  to  be  used  lor 
agriculture  until  the  rich,  wet  lands  to  the  east  and  west  are  occupied  ; 
and  at  present  we  have  little  to  fear  from  grangers.  Of  course,  in  the  end 
much  of  the  ground  will  be  taken  up  for  small  farms,  but  the  farmers  that 
so  far  have  come  in  have  absolutely  failed  to  make  even  a  living,  except 
now  and  then  by  raising  a  few  vegetables  for  the  use  of  the  stockmen  ; 
and  we  are  inclined  to  welcome  the  incoming  of  an  occasional  settler,  if 
he  is  a  decent  man,  especially  as,  by  the  laws  of  the  Territories  in  which 
the  great  grazing  plains  lie,  he  is  obliged  to  fence  in  his  own  patch  of 
cleared  ground,  and  we  do  not  have  to  keep  our  cattle  out  of  it. 

At  present  we  are  far  more  afraid  of  each  other.  There  are  always 
plenty  of  men  who  for  the  sake  of  the  chance  of  gain  they  themselves 
run  are  willing  to  jeopardize  the  interests  of  their  neighbors  by  putting 
on  more  cattle  than  the  land  will  support — for  the  loss,  of  course,  falls  as 
heavily  on  the  man  who  has  put  on  the  right  number  as  on  him  who  has 
put  on  too  many;  and  it  is  against  these  individuals  that  we  have  to 
guard  so  far  as  we  are  able.  To  protect  ourselves  completely  is  impossi- 
ble, but  the  very  identity  of  interest  that  renders  all  of  us  liable  to  suffer 

*  Written  in  the  fall  of  18H6;   the  ensuing  winter  exactly  fulfilled  the  prophecy. 


24  RANCH    LibE    AM)    I'HE    HU  Nl'lNG -TRAIL 

for  the  fault  of  a  few  also  renders  us  as  a  whole  able  to  take  some  rough 
measures  to  guard  against  the  wrong-doing  of  a  portion  of  our  number ; 
for  the  fact  that  the  cattle  wander  intermixed  over  the  rangfes  forces  all  the 
ranchmen  of  a  locality  to  combine  if  they  wish  to  do  their  work  effectively. 
Accordingl)-,  the  stockmen  of  a  neighborhood,  when  it  holds  as  many 
cattle  as  it  safely  can,  usually  unitedly  refuse  to  work  with  any  one  who 
puts  in  another  herd.  In  the  cow  country  a  man  is  peculiarly  dependent 
upon  his  neighbors,  and  a  small  outfit  is  wholly  unable  to  work  without 
their  assistance  when  once  the  cattle  have  mingled  completely  with  those 
of  other  brands.  A  large  outfit  is  much  more  master  of  its  destiny,  and 
can  do  its  own  work  quite  by  itself;  but  even  such  a  one  can  be  injured 
in  countless  ways  if  the  hostility  of  the  neighboring  ranchmen  is  incurred. 
The  best  days  of  ranching  are  over ;  and  though  there  are  many 
ranchmen  who  still  make  money,  yet  during  the  past  two  or  three  years 
the  majorit)-  have  certainly  lost.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  numerous 
Easterners  who  went  into  the  business  without  any  experience  and  trusted 
themselves  entirely  to  their  Western  representatives ;  although,  on  the 
other  hand,  many  of  those  who  have  made  most  money  at  it  are  East- 
erners, who,  however,  have  happened  to  be  naturally  fitted  for  the  work 
and  who  have  deliberately  settled  down  to  learning  the  business  as  they 
would  have  learned  any  other,  devoting  their  whole  time  and  energy  to  it. 
Stock-raising,  as  now  carried  on,  is  characteristic  of  a  young  and  wild 
land.  As  the  country  grows  older,  it  will  in  some  places  die  out,  and  in 
others  entirely  change  its  character ;  the  ranches  will  be  broken  up,  will 
be  gradually  modified  into  stock-farms,  or,  if  on  good  soil,  may  even  fall 
under  the  sway  of  the  husbandman. 

In  its  present  form  stock-raising  on  the  plains  is  doomed,  and  can 
hardly  outlast  the  century.  The  great  free  ranches,  with  their  barbarous, 
picturesque,  and  curiously  fascinating  surroundings,  mark  a  primitive 
stage  of  existence  as  surely  as  do  the  great  tracts  of  primeval  forests,  and 
like  the  latter  must  pass  away  before  the  onward  march  of  our  people  ; 
and  we  who  have  felt  the  charm  of  the  life,  and  have  exulted  in  its  abound- 
ing vigor  and  its  bold,  restless  freedom,  will  not  only  regret  its  passing 
for  our  own  sakes,  but  must  also  feel  real  sorrow  that  those  who  come 
after  us  are  not  to  see,  as  we  have  seen,  what  is  perhaps  the  pleasantest, 
healthiest,  and  most  exciting  phase  of  American  existence. 


THE  HOME  RANCH 


PONIES    PAWING    IN    THE    SNOW. 


Ill 


The    Home   Ranch 


Y  home  ranch  Hes  on  both  sides  of  the  Little  Missouri, 
the  nearest  ranchman  above  me  being  about  twelve, 
and  the  nearest  below  me  about  ten,  miles  distant. 
The  general  course  of  the  stream  here  is  northerly, 
but,  while  flowing  through  my  ranch,  it  takes  a  great  westerly  reach  of 
some  three  miles,  walled  in,  as  always,  between  chains  of  steep,  high  bluffs 
half  a  mile  or  more  apart.  The  stream  twists  down  through  the  valley 
in  long  sweeps,  leaving  oval  wooded  bottoms,  first  on  one  side  and  then 
on  the  other ;  and  in  an  open  glade  among  the  thick-growing  timber 
stands  the  long,  low  house  of  hewn  logs. 

Just  in  front  of  the  ranch  veranda  is  a  line  of  old  cottonwoods  that 
shade  it  during  the  fierce  heats  of  summer,  rendering  it  always  cool  and 
pleasant.  But  a  few  feet  beyond  these  trees  comes  the  cut-off  bank  of 
the  river,  through  whose  broad,  sandy  bed  the  shallow  stream  winds  as  if 
lost,  except  when  a  freshet  fills  it  from  brim  to  brim  with  foaming  yellow 
water.  The  bluffs  that  wall  in  the  river-valley  curve  back  in  semicircles, 
rising  from  its  alluvial  bottom  generally  as  abrupt  cliffs,  but  often  as  steep, 
grassy  slopes  that  lead  up  to  great  level  plateaus ;  and  the  line  is  broken 
every  mile  or  two  by  the  entrance  of  a  coulee,  or  dry  creek,  whose  head 
branches  may  be  twenty  miles  back.  Above  us,  where  the  river  comes 
round  the  bend,  the  valley  is  very  narrow,  and  the  high  buttes  bounding  it 
rise,  sheer  and  barren,  into  scalped  hill-peaks  and  naked  knife-blade  ridges. 
The  other  buildings  stand  in  the  same  open  glade  with  the  ranch 
house,  the  dense  growth  of  cottonwoods  and  matted,  thorny  underbrush 
making  a  wall  all  about,  through  which  we  have  chopped  our  wagon  roads 
and  trodden  out  our  own  bridle-paths.  The  cattle  have  now  trampled 
down  this  brush  a  little,  but  deer  still  lie  in  it,  only  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  from  the  house ;   and  from  the  door  sometimes  in  the  evening  one 


2b 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


can  see  them  peer  out  into  the  open,  or  make  their  way  clown,  timidly 
and  cautiously,  to  drink  at  the  river.  The  stable,  sheds,  and  other  out- 
buildings, with  the  hayricks  and  the  pens  for  such  cattle  as  we  bring  in 
during  winter,  are  near  the  house  ;  the  patch  of  fenced  garden  land  is 
on  the  edoe  of  the  woods ;  and  near  the  middle  of  the  sflade  stands  the 
high,  circular  horse-corral,  with  a  snubbing-post  in  the  center,  and  a  wing 
built  out  from  one  side  of  the  gate  entrance,  so  that  the  saddle-band  can 
be  driven  in  without  trouble.  As  it  is  very  hard  to  work  cattle  where 
there  is  much  brush,  the  larger  cow-corral  is  some  four  miles  off  on  an 
open  bottom. 

A  ranchman's  life  is  certainly  a  very  pleasant  one,  albeit  generally 
varied  with  plenty  of  hardship  and  anxiety.  Although  occasionally  he 
passes  days  of  severe  toil, —  for  example,  if  he  goes  on  the  round-up  he 
works  as  hard  as  any  of  his  men, —  yet  he  no  longer  has  to  undergo  the 
monotonous  drudgery  attendant  upon  the  tasks  of  the  cowboy  or  of  the 
apprentice  in  the  business.  His  fare  is  simple ;  but,  if  he  chooses,  it  is 
good  enough.  Many  ranches  are  provided  with  nothing  at  all  but  salt 
pork,  canned  goods,  and  bread;  indeed,  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  in  traveling 
through  the  cow  country  it  is  often  impossible  to  get  any  milk  or  butter ; 
but  this  is  only  because  the  owners  or  managers  are  too  lazy  to  take 
enough  trouble 
to  insure  their 
own  comfort. 
We  ourselves 
always  keep  up 


two  or  three  cows,  choos- 
ing such  as  are  naturally 
tame,  and  so  we  invari- 
ably have  plenty  of  milk 
and,  when  there  is  time  for  churning,  a  good  deal  of  butter.  We  also 
keep  hens,  which,  in  spite  of  the  damaging  inroads  of  hawks,  bob-cats, 
and  foxes,  supply  us  with  eggs,  and  in  time  of  need,  when  our  rifles  have 
failed  to  keep  us  in  game,  with  stewed,  roast,  or  fried  chicken  also.  From 
our  garden  we  get  potatoes,  and   unless  drought,  frost,  or  grasshoppers 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


27 


interfere  (which  they  do  about  every  second  year),  other  ve<jetables  as 
well.      For  fresh  meat  we  depend  chiefly  upon  our  prowess  as  hunters. 

During-  much  of  the  time  we  are  away  on  the  different  round-ups,  that 
''wheeled  house,"  the  great  four-horse  wagon,  being  then  our  home;  but 
when  at  the  ranch  our  routine  of  life  is  always  much  the  same,  save  dur- 
ing the  excessively  bitter  weather  of  midwinter,  when  there  is  little  to  do 
except  to  hunt,  if  the  days  are  fine  enough.  We  breakfast  early — before 
dawn  when  the  nights  have  grown  long,  and  rarely  later  than  sunrise, 
even  in  midsummer.  Perhaps  before  this  meal,  certainly  the  instant  it  is 
over,  the  man  whose  duty  it  is  rides  off  to  hunt  up  and  drive  in  the  saddle- 
band.  Each  of  us  has  his  own  string  of  horses,  eight  or  ten  in  number, 
and  the  whole  band  usually  split  up  into  two  or  three  companies.  In 
addition  to  the  scattered  groups  of  the  saddle-band,  our  six  or  eight 
mares,  with  their  colts,  keep  by  themselves,  and  are  rarely  bothered  by 
us,  as  no  cowboy  ever  rides  anything  but  horses,  because  mares  give 
great  trouble  where  all  the  animals  have  to  be  herded  together.  Once 
every  two  or  three  days  somebody  rides  round  and  finds  out  where  each 
of  these  smaller  bands  is,  but  the  man  who  goes  out  in  the  morning 
merely  gathers  one  bunch.  He  drives  these  into  the  corral,  the  other  men 
(who  have  been  lolling  idly  about  the  house  or  stable,  fixing  their  saddles 
or  doing  any  odd  job)  coming  out  with  their  ropes  as  soon  as  they  hear 
the  patter  of  the  unshod  hoofs  and  the  shouts  of  the  cowboy  driver. 
Going  into  the  corral,  and  standing  near  the  center,  each  of  us  picks  out 
some  one  of  his  own  string  from  among  the  animals  that  are  trotting  and 
running  in  a  compact  mass  round  the  circle  ;  and  after  one  or  miore  trials, 
according  to  his  skill,  ropes  it  and  leads  it  out.  When  all  have  caught 
their  horses  the  rest  are  again  turned  loose,  together  with  those  that  have 
been  kept  up  overnight.  Some  horses  soon  get  tame  and  do  not  need 
to  be  roped  ;  my  pet  cutting  pony,  little  Muley,  and  good  old  Manitou, 
my  companion  in  so  many  hunting  trips,  will  neither  of  them  stay  with 
the  rest  of  their  fellows  that  are  jamming  and  jostling  each  other  as  they 
rush  round  in  the  dust  of  the  corral,  but  they  very  sensibly  walk  up  and 
stand  quietly  with  the  men  in  the  middle,  by  the  snubbing-post.  Both 
are  great  pets,  Manitou  in  particular;  the  wise  old  fellow  being  very  fond 
of  bread  and  sometimes  coming  up  of  his  own  accord  to  the  ranch  house 
and  even  putting  his  head  into  the  door  to  beg  for  it. 

Once  saddled,  the  men  ride  off  on  their  different  tasks  ;  for  almost 
everything  is  done  in  the  saddle,  except  that  in  winter  we  cut  our  fire- 
wood and  quarry  our  coal.  —  both  on  the  ranch, — and  in  summer  attend 
to  the  garden  and  put  up  what  wild  hay  we  need. 


28  RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

If  any  horses  have  strayed,  one  or  two  of  the  men  will  be  sent  off  to 
look  for  them  ;  for  hunting  lost  horses  is  one  of  the  commonest  and  most 
irksome  of  our  duties.  Every  outfit  always  has  certain  of  its  horses  at 
large;  and  if  they  remain  out  long  enough  they  become  as  wild  and  wary 
as  deer  and  have  to  be  regularly  surrounded  and  run  down.  On  one 
occasion,  when  three  of  mine  had  been  running  loose  for  a  couple  of 
months,  we  had  to  follow  at  full  speed  for  at  least  fifteen  miles  before 
exhausting  them  enough  to  enable  us  to  get  some  control  over  them  and 
head  them  towards  a  corral.  Twice  I  have  had  horses  absent  nearly  a 
year  before  they  were  recovered.  One  of  them,  after  being  on  the  ranch 
nine  months,  went  off  one  night  and  traveled  about  two  hundred  miles  in 
a  straight  line  back  to  its  old  haunts,  swimming  the  Yellowstone  on  the 
way.  Two  others  were  at  one  time  away  nearly  eighteen  months,  during 
which  time  we  saw  them  twice,  and  on  one  occasion  a  couple  of  the  men 
fairly  ran  their  horses  down  in  following  them.  We  began  to  think  they 
were  lost  for  good,  as  they  were  all  the  time  going  farther  down  towards 
the  Sioux  country,  but  we  finally  recovered  them. 

If  the  men  do  not  go  horse-hunting  they  may  ride  off  over  the  range; 
for  there  is  generally  some  work  to  be  done  among  the  cattle,  such  as 
driving  in  and  branding  calves  that  have  been  overlooked  by  the  round- 
up, or  getting  some  animal  out  of  a  bog-hole.  During  the  early  spring 
months,  before  the  round-up  begins,  the  chief  work  is  in  hauling  out 
mired  cows  and  steers  ;  and  if  we  did  not  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  the 
losses  at  this  season  would  be  very  serious.  As  long  as  everything  is 
frozen  solid  there  is,  of  course,  no  danger  from  miring;  but  when  the 
thaw  comes,  along  towards  the  beginning  of  March,  a  period  of  new 
danger  to  the  cattle  sets  in.  When  the  ice  breaks  up,  the  streams  are 
left  with  an  edging  of  deep  bog,  while  the  quicksand  is  at  its  worst.  As 
the  frost  goes  out  of  the  soil,  the  ground  round  every  little  alkali-spring 
changes  into  a  trembling  quagmire,  and  deep  holes  of  slimy,  tenacious 
mud  form  in  the  bottom  of  all  the  gullies.  The  cattle,  which  have  had 
to  live  on  snow  for  three  or  four  months,  are  very  eager  for  water,  and 
are  weak  and  in  poor  condition.  They  rush  heedlessly  into  any  pool  and 
stand  there,  drinking  gallons  of  the  icy  water  and  sinking  steadily  into 
the  mud.  When  they  try  to  get  out  they  are  already  too  deep  down, 
and  are  too  weak  to  make  a  prolonged  struggle.  After  one  or  two  fits  of 
desperate  floundering,  they  resign  themselves  to  their  fate  with  dumb 
apathy  and  are  lost,  unless  some  one  of  us  riding  about  discovers  and 
hauls  them  out.  They  may  be  thus  lost  in  wonderfully  small  mud-holes ; 
often  they  will  be  found  dead  in  a  gulch  but  two  or  three  feet  across,  or 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


29 


in  the  quicksand  of  a  creek  so  narrow  that  it  could  ahnost  be  jumped. 
An  alkah-hole,  where  the  water  oozes  out  through  the  thick  clay,  is  the 
worst  of  all,  owing  to  the  ropy  tenacity  with  which  the  horrible  substance 
sticks  and  clings  to  any  unfortunate  beast  that  gets  into  it. 

In  the  spring  these   mud-holes   cause  very  serious  losses  among  the 
cattle,  and  are  at  all  times  fruitful  sources  of  danger ;   indeed,  during  an 


nemmtlhifi- 


ROPING     IN     A    HORSE-COKKAL. 


ordinary  year  more  cattle  die  from  getting  mired  than  from  any  other 
cause.  In  addition  to  this  they  also  often  prove  very  annoying  to  the 
rider  himself,  as  getting  his  steed  mired  or  caught  in  a  quicksand  is  one 
of  the  commonest  of  the  accidents  that  beset  a  horseman  in  the  far  West. 
This  usually  happens  in  fording  a  river,  if  the  latter  is  at  all  high,  or  else 
in  crossing  one  of  the  numerous  creeks ;  although  I  once  saw  a  horse  and 
rider  suddenly  engulfed  while  leisurely  walking  over  what  appeared  to  be 
dry  land.  They  had  come  to  an  alkali  mud-hole,  an  old  buffalo-wallow, 
which  had  filled  up  and  was  covered  with  a  sun-baked  crust,  that  let  them 
through  as  if  they  had  stepped  on  a  trap-door.  There  being  several  of 
us  along,  we  got  down  our  ropes  and  dragged  both  unfortunates  out  in 
short  order. 


30  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

When  the  river  is  up  it  is  a  very  common  thing  for  a  horseman  to 
have  great  difficulty  in  crossing,  for  the  swift,  brown  water  runs  over  a 
bed  of  deep  quicksand  that  is  ever  shifting.  An  inexperienced  horse,  or 
a  mule, — for  a  mule  is  useless  in  mud  or  quicksand, — becomes  mad  with 
fright  in  such  a  crossing,  and,  after  speedily  exhausting  its  strength  in 
wild  struo-ofles,  will  throw  itself  on  its  side  and  drown  unless  the  rider 
gets  it  out.  An  old  horse  used  to  such  work  will,  on  the  contrary,  take 
matters  quietly  and  often  push  along  through  really  dangerous  quicksand. 
Old  Manitou  never  loses  his  head  for  an  instant ;  but,  now  resting  a  few 
seconds,  now  feeling  his  way  cautiously  forward,  and  now  making  two  or 
three  desperate  plunges,  will  go  on  wherever  a  horse  possibly  can.  It  is 
really  dangerous  crossing  some  of  the  creeks,  as  the  bottom  may  give 
way  where  it  seems  hardest ;  and  if  one  is  alone  he  may  work  hours  in 
vain  before  getting  his  horse  out,  even  after  taking  off  both  saddle  and 
bridle,  the  only  hope  being  to  head  it  so  that  every  plunge  takes  it  an 
inch  or  two  in  the  right  direction. 

Nor  are  mud-holes  the  only  danger  the  horseman  has  to  fear;  for  in 
much  of  the  Bad  Lands  the  buttes  are  so  steep  and  broken  that  it  needs 
genuine  mountaineering  skill  to  get  through  them,  and  no  horse  but  a 
Western  one,  bred  to  the  business,  could  accomplish  the  feat.  In  many 
parts  of  our  country  it  is  impossible  for  a  horseman  who  does  not  know 
the  land  to  cross  it,  and  it  is  difficult  enough  even  for  an  experienced 
hand.  For  a  stretch  of  nearly  ten  miles  along  the  Little  Missouri  above 
my  range,  and  where  it  passes  through  it,  there  are  but  three  or  four 
l^laces  where  it  is  possible  for  a  horseman  to  get  out  to  the  eastern  prairie 
through  the  exceedingly  broken  country  lying  back  from  the  river.  In 
places  this  very  rough  ground  comes  down  to  the  water;  elsewhere  it  lies 
back  near  the  heads  of  the  creeks.  In  such  very  bad  ground  the  whole 
country  seems  to  be  one  tangled  chaos  of  canyon-like  valleys,  winding 
gullies  and  washouts  with  abrupt,  unbroken  sides,  isolated  peaks  of  sand- 
stone, marl,  or  "gumbo"  clay,  which  rain  turns  into  slippery  glue,  and  hill 
chains  the  ridges  of  which  always  end  in  sheer  cliffs.  After  a  man  has 
made  his  way  with  infinite  toil  for  half  a  mile,  a  point  will  be  reached 
around  which  it  is  an  absolute  impossibility  to  go,  and  the  adventurer  has 
nothing  to  do  but  painfully  retrace  his  steps  and  try  again  in  a  new  direc- 
tion, as  likely  as  not  with  the  same  result.  In  such  a  place  the  rider  dis- 
mounts and  leads  his  horse,  the  latter  climbing  with  cat-like  agility  up 
seemingly  inaccessible  heights,  scrambling  across  the  steep,  sloping 
shoulders  of  the  bluffs,  sliding  down  the  faces  of  the  clay  cliffs  with  all 
four  legs  rigid,  or  dropping  from  ledge  to  ledge  like  a  goat,  and  accept- 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


31 


ing  with  unruffled  composure  an  occasional  roll  from  top  to  bottom.  But, 
in  spite  of  the  climbing  abilities  of  the  ponies,  it  is  difficult,  and  at 
times — for  our  steeds,  at  any  rate — dangerous  work  to  go  through  such 
places,  and  we  only  do  it  when  it  cannot  be  avoided.  Once  I  was  over- 
taken by  darkness  while  trying  to  get  through  a  great  tract  of  very  rough 
land,  and,  after  once  or  twice  nearly  breaking  my  neck,  in  despair  had  to 
give  up  all  attempts  to  get  out,  and  until  daybreak  simply  staid  where  i 
was,  in  a  kind  of  ledge  or  pocket  on  the  side  of  the  cliff,  luckily  sheltered 
from  the  wind.  It  was  midsummer  and  the  nights  were  short,  but  this 
particular  one  seemed  quite  long  enough  ;  and  though  I  was  on  the  move 
by  dawn,  it  was  three  hours  later  before  I  led  the  horse,  as  hungry,  numb, 
and  stiff  as  myself,  out  on  the  prairie  again. 

Occasionally  it  is  imperatively  necessary  to  cross  some  of  the  worst 
parts  of  the  Bad  Lands  with  a  wagon,  and  such  a  trip  is  exhausting 
and  laborious  beyond  belief.  Often  the  wagon  will  have  to  be  taken  to 
pieces  every  few  hundred  yards  in  order  to  get  it  over  a  ravine,  lower  it 
into  a  valley,  or  drag  it  up  a  cliff.  One  outfit,  that  a  year  ago  tried  to 
take  a  short  cut  through  some  of  the  Bad  Lands  of  the  Powder  River, 
made  just  four  miles  in  three  days,  and  then  had  to  come  back  to  their 
starting-point  after  all.  But  with  only  saddle-horses  we  feel  that  it  must 
be  a  very  extraordinary  country  indeed  if,  in  case  of  necessity,  we  cannot 
go  through  it. 

The  long  forenoon's  work,  with  its  attendant  mishaps  to  man  and 
beast,  being  over,  the  men  who  have  been  out  among  the  horses  and 
cattle  come  riding  in,  to  be  joined  by  their  fellows — if  any  there  be  —  who 
have  been  hunting,  or  haying,  or  chopping  wood.  The  midday  dinner  is 
variable  as  to  time,  for  it  comes  when  the  men  have  returned  from  their 
work ;  but,  whatever  be  the  hour,  it  is  the  most  substantial  meal  of  the 
day,  and  we  feel  that  we  have  little  fault  to  find  with  a  table  on  the 
clean  cloth  of  which  are  spread  platters  of  smoked  elk  meat,  loaves  of 
good  bread,  jugs  and  bowls  of  milk,  saddles  of  venison  or  broiled  antelope 
steaks,  perhaps  roast  and  fried  prairie  chickens,  with  eggs,  butter,  wild 
plums,  and  tea  or  coffee. 

The  afternoon's  tasks  are  usually  much  the  same  as  the  morning's,  but 
this  time  is  often  spent  in  doing  the  odds  and  ends ;  as,  for  instance, 
it  may  be  devoted  to  breaking-in  a  new  horse.  Large  outfits  gener- 
ally hire  a  bronco-buster  to  do  this ;  but  we  ourselves  almost  always 
break  our  own  horses,  two  or  three  of  my  men  being  pretty  good  riders, 
although  none  of  them  can  claim  to  be  anything  out  of  the  common.  A 
first-class  flash  rider  or  bronco-buster  receives  hieh  waores.  and  deserves 


32  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

them,  lor  he  follows  a  most  dangerous  trade,  at  which  no  man  can  hope  to 
grow  old ;  his  work  being  infinitely  harder  than  that  of  an  Eastern  horse- 
breaker  or  rough-rider,  because  he  has  to  do  it  in  such  a  limited  time.  A 
good  rider  is  a  good  rider  all  the  world  over ;  but  an  Eastern  or  English 
horse-breaker  and  Western  bronco-buster  have  so  Httle  in  common  with 
each  other  as  regards  style  or  surroundings,  and  are  so  totally  out  of 
place  in  doing  each  other's  work,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  get  either 
to  admit  that  the  other  has  any  merits  at  all  as  a  horseman,  for  neither 
could  sit  in  the  saddle  of  the  other  or  could  without  great  difficulty  per- 
form his  task.     The  ordinary  Eastern  seat,  which  approaches  more  or  less 


A     OK  El'     FORD. 


the  seat  of  a  cross-country  rider  or  fox- hunter,  is  nearly  as  different  from 
the  cowboy's  seat  as  from  that  of  a  man  who  rides  bareback.  The  stir- 
rups on  a  stock  saddle  are  much  farther  back  than  they  are  on  an 
ordinary  English  one  (a  difference  far  more  important  than  the  high  horn 
and  cantle  of  the  former),  and  the  man  stands  nearly  erect  in  them, 
instead  of  having  his  legs  bent;  and  he  grips  with  the  thighs  and  not  with 
the  knees,  throwing  his  feet  well  out.  Some  of  the  things  he  teaches  his 
horse  would  be  wholly  useless  to  an  Eastern  equestrian  :  for  example,  one 
of  the  first  lessons  the  newlv-cautrht  animal  has  to  learn  is  not  to  "run  on 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


33 


a  rope  " ;  and  he  is  taught  this  by  being  violently  snubbed  up,  probably 
turnino^  a  somersault,  the  first  two  or  three  times  that  he  feels  the  noose 
settle  round  his  neck,  and  makes  a  mad  rush  for  liberty.  The  snubbing- 
post  is  the  usual  adjunct  in  teaching  such  a  lesson ;  but  a  skillful  man  can 
do  without  any  help  and  throw  a  horse  clean  over  by  holding  the  rope  tight 
against  the  left  haunch,  at  the  same  time  leaning  so  far  back,  with  the  legs 
straight  in  front,  that  the  heels  dig  deep  into  the  ground  when  the  strain 
comes,  and  the  horse,  running  out  with  the  slack  of  the  rope,  is  brought 
up  standing,  or  even  turned  head  over  heels  by  the  shock.  Cowboys  are 
probably  the  only  working-men  in  the  world  who  invariably  wear  gloves, 
buckskin  gauntlets  being  preferred,  as  otherwise  the  ropes  would  soon  take 
every  particle  of  skin  off  their  hands. 

A  bronco-buster  has  to  work  by  such  violent  methods  in  consequence 
of  the  short  amount  of  time  at  his  command.  Horses  are  cheap,  each  out- 
fit has  a  great  many,  and  the  wages  for  breaking  an  animal  are  but  five 
or  ten  dollars.  Three  rides,  of  an  hour  or  two  each,  on  as  many  consecu- 
tive days,  are  the  outside  number  a  bronco-buster  deems  necessary  before 
turning  an  animal  over  as  "  broken."  The  average  bronco-buster,  how- 
ever, handles  horses  so  very  rudely  that  we  prefer,  aside  from  motives  of 
economy,  to  break  our  own  ;  and  this  is  always  possible,  if  we  take  enough 
time.  The  best  and  quietest  horses  on  the  ranch  are  far  from  being 
those  broken  by  the  best  riders ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  those  that  have 
been  handled  most  gently,  although  firmly,  and  that  have  had  the  greatest 
number  of  days  devoted  to  their  education. 

Some  horses,  of  course,  are  almost  incurably  vicious,  and  must  be  con- 
quered by  main  force.  One  pleasing  brute  on  my  ranch  will  at  times  rush 
at  a  man  open-mouthed  like  a  wolf,  and  this  is  a  regular  trick  of  the 
range-stallions.  In  a  great  many — indeed,  in  most — localities  there  are 
wild  horses  to  be  found,  which,  although  invariably  of  domestic  descent, 
being  either  themselves  runaways  from  some  ranch  or  Indian  outfit,  or 
else  claiming  such  for  their  sires  and  dams,  yet  are  quite  as  wild  as  the 
antelope  on  whose  domain  they  have  intruded.  Ranchmen  run  in  these 
wild  horses  whenever  possible,  and  they  are  but  little  more  difficult  to 
break  than  the  so-called  "tame"  animals.  But  the  wild  stallions  are, 
whenever  possible,  shot ;  both  because  of  their  propensity  for  driving  off 
the  ranch  mares,  and  because  their  incurable  viciousness  makes  them 
always  unsafe  companions  for  other  horses  still  more  than  for  men.  A 
wild  stallion  fears  no  beast  except  the  grizzly,  and  will  not  always  flinch 
from  an  encounter  with  it ;  yet  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  a  jack  will  almost 
always  kill  one  in  a  fair  fight.     The  particulars  of  a  fight  of  this  sort  were 

7 


34 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


related  to  me  by  a  cattle  man  who 
was  engaged  in  bringing  out  blood- 
ed stock  from  the  East.  Anion o- 
the  animals  under  his  charge  were 
two  great  stallions,  one  gray  and 
one  black,  and  a  fine  jackass,  not 
much  over  half  the  size  of  either  of 
the  former.  The  animals  were 
kept  in  separate  pens,  but  one  da) 
both  horses  got  into  the  same  in- 
closure.  next  to  the  jack-pen,  and 
began  to  fight  as  only  enraged 
stallions  can,   striking  like  boxers 


with  their  fore  feet,  and  biting  with 
their  teeth.  The  gray  was  getting 
the  best  of  it ;  but  while  clinched 
with  his  antagonist  in  one  tussle 
they  rolled  against  the  jack-pen, 
breaking  it  in.  No  sooner  was  the 
jack  at  liberty  than,  with  ears  laid 
back  and  mouth  wide  open,  he 
made  straight  for  the  two  horses, 
who  had  for  the  moment  separated. 


A    HARU     IKAIL. 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


35 


The  gray  turned  to  meet  him,  rearing  on  his  hind  legs  and  striking  at 
him  with  his  tore  feet ;  but  the  jack  shpped  in,  and  in  a  minute  grasped 
his  antagonist  by  the  throat  with  his  wide-open  jaws,  and  then  held  on 
like  a  bull-dog,  all  four  feet  planted  stiffly  in  the  soil.  The  stallion  made 
tremendous  efforts  to  shake  him  off:  he  would  try  to  whirl  round  and  kick 
him,  but  for  that  the  jack  was  too  short ;  then  he  would  rise  up,  lifting  the 
jack  off  the  ground,  and  strike  at  him  with  his  fore  feet ;  but  all  that  he 
gained  by  this  was  to  skin  his  foe's  front  legs  without  making  him  loose 
his  hold.  Twice  they  fell,  and  twice  the  stallion  rose,  by  main  strength 
dragging  the  jack  with  him  ;  but  all  in  vain.  Meanwhile  the  black  horse 
attacked  both  the  combatants,  with  perfect  impartiality,  striking  and  kick- 
ing them  with  his  hoofs,  while  his  teeth,  as  they  slipped  off  the  tough 
hides,  met  with  a  snap  like  that  of  a  bear-trap.  Undoubtedly  the  jack 
would  have  killed  at  least  one  of  the  horses  had  not  the  men  come  up, 
and  with  no  small  difficulty  separated  the  maddened  brutes. 

If  not  breaking  horses,  mending  saddles,  or  doing  something  else  of 
the  sort,  the  cowboys  will  often  while  away  their  leisure  moments  by  prac- 
ticing with  the  rope.  A  man  cannot  practice  too  much  with  this  if  he 
wishes  to  attain  even  moderate  proficiency  ;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  he 
soon  gets  to  wish  to  practice  the  whole  time.  A  cowboy  is  always 
roping  something,  and  it  especially  delights  him  to  try  his  skill  at  game. 
A  friend  of  mine,  a  young  ranchman  in  the  Judith  basin,  about  four  years 
ago  roped  a  buffalo,  and  by  the  exercise  of  the  greatest  skill,  both  on  his 
own  part  and  on  his  steed's,  actually  succeeded,  by  alternate  bullying  and 
coaxing,  in  getting  the  huge  brute  almost  into  camp.  I  have  occasionally 
known  men  on  fast  horses  to  rope  deer,  and  even  antelope,  when  circum- 
stances all  joined  to  favor  them  ;  and  last  summer  one  of  the  cowboys  on 
a  ranch  about  thirty  miles  off  ran  into  and  roped  a  wounded  elk.  A  forty- 
foot  lariat  is  the  one  commonly  used,  for  the  ordinary  range  at  which  a 
man  can  throw  it  is  only  about  twenty-five  feet.  Few  men  can  throw  forty 
feet ;   and  to  do  this,  taking  into  account  the  coil,  needs  a  sixty-foot  rope. 

When  the  day's  work  is  over  we  take  supper,  and  bed-time  comes  soon 
afterward,  for  the  men  who  live  on  ranches  sleep  well  and  soundly.  As  a 
rule,  the  nights  are  cool  and  bracing,  even  in  midsummer  ;  except  when 
we  occasionally  have  a  spell  of  burning  weather,  with  a  steady,  hot  wind 
that  blow^s  in  our  faces  like  a  furnace  blast,  sending  the  thermometer  far 
up  above  a  hundred  and  making  us  gasp  for  breath,  even  at  night,  in  the 
dry-baked  heat  of  the  air.  But  it  is  only  rarely  that  we  get  a  few  days  of 
this  sort ;  generally,  no  matter  how^  unbearable  the  heat  of  the  day  has 
been,  we  can  at  least  sleep  pleasantly  at  night. 


^5  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

A  ranchman's  work  is,  of  course,  tree  from  much  of  the  sameness 
attendant  upon  that  of  a  mere  cowbo)-.  One  day  he  will  ride  out  with 
his  men  among  the  cattle,  or  after  strayed  horses ;  the  next  he  may  hunt, 
so  as  to  keep  the  ranch  in  meat ;  then  he  can  make  the  tour  of  his  out- 
lying camps  ;  or,  again,  may  join  one  of  the  round-ups  for  a  week  or  two, 
perhaps  keeping  with  it  the  entire  time  it  is  working.  On  occasions  he 
will  have  a  good  deal  of  spare  time  on  his  hands,  which,  if  he  chooses,  he 
can  spend  in  reading  or  waiting.  If  he  cares  for  books,  there  will  be  many 
a  worn  volume  in  the  primitive  little  sitting-room,  with  its  log  walls  and 
huge  fire-place ;  but  after  a  hard  day's  work  a  man  will  not  read  much, 
but  will  rock  to  and  fro  in  the  flickering  firelight,  talking  sleepily  over  his 
success  in  the  day's  chase  and  the  difficulty  he  has  had  with  the  cattle ;  or 
else  may  simply  lie  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  elk-hides  and  wolf-skins 
in  front  of  the  hearthstone,  listening  in  drowsy  silence  to  the  roar  and 
crackle  of  the  blazing  logs  and  to  the  moaning  of  the  wind  outside. 

In  the  sharp  fall  weather  the  riding  is  delicious  all  day  long;  but  even 
in  the  late  spring,  and  all  through  the  summer,  we  try,  if  we  can,  to  do  our 
work  before  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  if  going  on  a  long  ride,  whether  to 
hunt  or  for  other  purposes,  leave  the  ranch  house  by  dawn. 

The  early  rides  in  the  spring  mornings  have  a  charm  all  their  own,  for 
they  are  taken  when,  for  the  one  and  only  time  during  the  year,  the  same 
brown  landscape  of  these  high  plains  turns  to  a  vivid  green,  as  the  new 
grass  sprouts  and  the  trees  and  bushes  thrust  forth  the  young  leaves ; 
and  at  dawn,  with  the  dew  glittering  everywhere,  all  things  show  at  their 
best  and  freshest.  The  flowers  are  out  and  a  man  may  gallop  for  miles  at 
a  stretch  with  his  horse's  hoofs  sinking  at  every  stride  into  the  carpet  of 
prairie  roses,  whose  short  stalks  lift  the  beautiful  blossoms  but  a  few 
inches  from  the  ground.  Even  in  the  waste  places  the  cactuses  are 
blooming ;  and  one  kind  in  particular,  a  dwarfish,  globular  plant,  with 
its  mass  of  splendid  crimson  flow^ers  glows  against  the  sides  of  the  gray 
buttes  like  a  splash  of  flame. 

The  ravines,  winding  about  and  splitting  into  a  labyrinth  of  coulees, 
wdth  chains  of  rounded  hills  to  separate  them,  have  groves  of  trees  in  their 
bottoms,  along  the  sides  of  the  water  courses.  In  these  are  found  the 
blacktail  deer,  and  his  cousin,  the  w^hitetail,  too,  with  his  flaunting  flag; 
but  in  the  spring-time,  when  we  are  after  antelope  only,  we  must  go  out 
farther  to  the  flat  prairie  land  on  the  divide.  Here,  in  places,  the  level, 
grassy  plains  are  strewn  with  mounds  and  hillocks  of  red  or  gray  scoria, 
that  stand  singly  or  clustered  into  little  groups,  their  tops  crested,  or  their 
sides  covered,  by  queer  detached   masses  of  volcanic  rock,  wrought  into 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


Z1 


strange  shapes  by  the  dead  forces  whose  bHnd,  hidden  strength  long  ago 
called  them  into  beinor.  The  road  our  wa^fons  take,  when  the  water  is  too 
high  for  us  to  come  down  the  river  bottom,  stretches  far  ahead  —  two  dark. 


IN  WITH    THE    HORSE    HERD. 


straight,  parallel  furrows  which  merge  into  one  in  the  distance.  Quaint 
little  horned  frogs  crawl  sluggishly  along  in  the  wheel  tracks,  and 
the  sickle -billed  curlews  run  over  the  ground  or  soar  above  and  around 
the  horsemen,  uttering  their  mournful,  never-ceasing  clamor.  The  grass- 
land stretches  out  in  the  sunlight  like  a  sea,  every  wind  bending  the 
blades  into  a  ripple,  and  flecking  the  prairie  with  shifting  patches  of  a 
different  green  from  that  around,  exactly  as  the  touch  of  a  light  squall  or 
wind-gust  will  fleck  the  smooth  surface  of  the  ocean.  Our  Western  plains 
differ  widely  in  detail  from  those  of  Asia  ;   yet  they  always  call  to  mind 


3S  RANCH    LIFE    AND     THK    HUNTING- TRAIL 

.     .     .     .      The  Scythian 
On  the  wide  steppe,  unharnessing 
His  wheel'd  house  at  noon. 

He  tethers  his  beast  down,  and  makes  his  meal  — 
Mares'  milk,  and  bread 
Baked  on  the  embers ;  —  all  around 
The  boundless,  waving  grass-plains  stretch    .     .     . 

.  ;   before  him,  for  long  miles, 
Alive  witli  bright  green  lizards 
And  the  springing  bustard  fowl. 
The  track,  a  straight  black  line. 
Furrows  the  rich  soil ;  here  and  there 
Clusters  of  lonely  mounds 
Topp'd  with  rough  hewn. 
Gray,  rain-blear'd  statues,  overpeer 
The  sunny  waste. 

In  the  spring  mornings  the  rider  on  the  plains  will  hear  bird  songs 
tmknown  in  the  East.  The  Missouri  skylark  sings  while  soaring  above 
the  great  plateaus  so  high  in  the  air  that  it  is  impossible  to  see  the  bird ; 
and  this  habit  of  singing  while  soaring  it  shares  with  some  sparrow-like 
birds  that  are  often  found  in  company  with  it.  The  white-shouldered 
lark-bunting,  in  its  livery  of  black,  has  rich,  full  notes,  and  as  it  sings  on 
the  wing  it  reminds  one  of  the  bobolink  ;  and  the  sweet-voiced  lark-finch 
also  utters  its  song  in  the  air.  These  birds,  and  most  of  the  sparrows  of 
the  plains,  are  characteristic  of  this  region. 

But  many  of  our  birds,  especially  those  found  in  the  wooded  river  bot- 
toms, answer  to  those  of  the  East ;  only  almost  each  one  has  some  marked 
point  of  difference  from  its  Eastern  representative.  The  bluebird  out 
West  is  very  much  of  a  blue  bird  indeed,  for  it  has  no  "earth  tinge"  on 
its  breast  at  all ;  while  the  indigo-bird,  on  the  contrary,  has  gained  the 
ruddy  markings  that  the  other  has  lost.  The  flicker  has  the  shafts  of  its 
wing  and  tail  quills  colored  orange  instead  of  yellow.  The  towhee  has 
lost  all  title  to  its  name,  for  its  only  cry  is  a  mew  like  that  of  a  cat-bird  ; 
while,  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  meadow-lark  has  found  a  rich,  strong 
voice,  and  is  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  incessant  singers  we  have. 

Throughout  June  the  thickets  and  groves  about  the  ranch  house  are 
loud  with  bird  music  from  before  dawn  till  long  after  sunrise.  The 
thrashers  have  suno-  all  the  ni£{ht  throuQrh  from  anions:  the  thorn-bushes 
if  there  has  been  a  moon,  or  even  if  there  has  been  bright  starlight ;  and 
before  the  first  glimmer  of  gray  the  bell-like,  silvery  songs  of  the  shy 
woodland  thrushes  chime  in ;  while  meadow-lark,  robin,  bluebird,  and 
song  sparrow,  together  with  many  rarer  singers,  like  the  grosbeak,  join  in 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


39 


swellinpf  the  chorus.  There  are  some  would-be  sinorers  whose  intention  is 
better  than  their  execution.  Blackbirds  of  several  kinds  are  plenty  round 
the  house  and  stables,  walking  about  with  a  knowing  air,  like  so  many 
dwarf  crows;  and  now  and  then  a  flock  of  yellow-heads  will  mix  for  a 
few  days  with  their  purple  or  rusty-colored  brethren.  The  males  of  these 
yellow-headed  grakles  are  really  handsome,  their  orange  and  yellow 
heads  contrasting  finely  with  the  black  of  the  rest  of  their  plumage  ;  but 
their  voices  are  discordant  to  a  degree.  When  a  flock  has  done  feeding 
it  will  often  light  in  straggling  order  among  the  trees  in  front  of  the 
veranda,  and  then  the  males  will  begin  to  sing,  or  rather  to  utter  the  most 
extraordinary  collection  of  broken  sounds  —  creakings,  gurglings,  hisses, 
twitters,  and  every  now  and  then  a  liquid  note  or  two.  It  is  like  an 
accentuated  representation  of  the  noise  made  by  a  flock  of  common  black- 
birds. At  nightfall  the  poor-wills  begin  to  utter  their  boding  call  from  the 
wooded  ravines  back  in  the  hills;  not  "whip-poor-will,"  as  in  the  East,  but 
with  two  syllables  only.  They  often  come  round  the  ranch  house.  Late 
one  eveninor  I  had  been  sitting  motionless  on  the  veranda,  looking  out 
across  the  water  and  watching  the  green  and  brown  of  the  hill-tops 
change  to  purple  and  umber  and  then  fade  off  into  shadowy  gray  as  the 
somber  darkness  deepened.  Suddenly  a  poor-wall  lit  on  the  floor  beside 
me  and  stayed  some  little  time ;  now  and  then  uttering  its  mournful  cries, 
then  ceasing  for  a  few  moments  as  it  flitted  round  after  insects,  and  again 
returning  to  the  same  place  to  begin  anew.  The  little  owls,  too,  call  to 
each  other  with  tremulous,  quavering  voices  throughout  the  livelong 
night,  as  they  sit  in  the  creaking  trees  that  overhang  the  roof.  Now  and 
then  we  hear  the  wilder  voices  of  the  wilderness,  from  animals  that  in  the 
hours  of  darkness  do  not  fear  the  neighborhood  of  man  :  the  coyotes 
wail  like  dismal  ventriloquists,  or  the  silence  may  be  broken  by  the 
strident  challenge  of  a  lynx,  or  by  the  snorting  and  stamping  of  a  deer 
that  has  come  to  the  edge  of  the  open. 

In  the  hot  noontide  hours  of  midsummer  the  broad  ranch  veranda, 
always  in  the  shade,  is  almost  the  only  spot  where  a  man  can  be  com- 
fortable ;  but  here  he  can  sit  for  hours  at  a  time,  leaning  back  in  his  rock- 
ing-chair, as  he  reads  or  smokes,  or  with  half-closed,  dreamy  eyes  gazes 
across  the  shallow,  nearly  dry  river-bed  to  the  wooded  bottoms  opposite, 
and  to  the  plateaus  lying  back  of  them.  Against  the  sheer  white  faces  of 
the  cliffs,  that  come  down  without  a  break,  the  dark  green  tree-tops  stand 
out  in  bold  relief.  In  the  hot,  lifeless  air  all  objects  that  are  not  near  by 
seem  to  sway  and  waver.  There  are  few  sounds  to  break  the  stillness. 
From  the  upper  branches  of  the  cottonwood  trees  overhead,  whose  shim- 


40 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAH. 


mering.  tremulous  leaves  are  hardly  ever  quiet,  but  If  the  wind  stirs  at  all, 
rustle  and  quiver  and  sigh  all  day  long,  comes  every  now  and  then  the 
soft,  melancholy  cooing  of  the  mourning  dove,  whose  voice  always  seems 


.^A 


i^m^'  ''-'''' 


A    BU(  KING    KRONCO. 


far  away  and  expresses  more  than  any  other  sound  in  nature  the  sadness 
of  gentle,  hopeless,  never-ending  grief.  The  other  birds  are  still;  and 
very  few  animals   move   about.      Now  and   then    the  black  shadow  of  a 


THE    HOME    RANCH  41 

wheeling  vulture  falls  on  the  sun-scorched  ground.  The  cattle,  that  have 
strung  down  in  long  files  from  the  hills,  lie  quietly  on  the  sand-bars, 
except  that  some  of  the  bulls  keep  traveling  up  and  down,  bellowing  and 
routing  or  giving  vent  to  long,  surly  grumblings  as  they  paw  the  sand 
and  toss  it  up  with  their  horns.  At  times  the  horses,  too,  will  come 
down  to  drink,  and  to  splash  and  roll  in  the  water. 

The  prairie-dogs  alone  are  not  daunted  by  the  heat,  but  sit  at  the 
mouths  of  their  burrows  with  their  usual  pert  curiosity.  They  are  both- 
ersome little  fellows,  and  most  prolific,  increasing  in  spite  of  the  perpetual 
war  made  on  them  by  every  carnivorous  bird  and  beast.  One  of  their 
worst  foes  is  the  black-footed  ferret,  a  handsome,  rather  rare  animal, 
somewhat  like  a  mink,  with  a  yellow-brown  body  and  dark  feet  and 
mask.  It  is  a  most  bloodthirsty  little  brute,  feeding  on  all  small  animals 
and  ground  birds.  It  will  readily  master  a  jack-rabbit,  will  kill  very 
young  fawns  if  it  finds  them  in  the  mother's  absence,  and  works  extraor- 
dinary havoc  in  a  dog  town,  as  it  can  follow  the  wretched  little  beasts 
down  into  the  burrows.  In  one  instance,  I  knew  of  a  black-footed  ferret 
making  a  succession  of  inroads  on  a  ranchman's  poultry,  killing  and  car- 
rying off  most  of  them  before  it  was  trapped.  Coyotes,  foxes,  swifts, 
badeers,  and  skunks  also  like  to  lurk  about  the  do^  towns.  Of  the 
skunks,  by  the  way,  we  had  last  year  altogether  too  much  ;  there  was  a 
perfect  plague  of  them  all  along  the  river,  and  they  took  to  trying  to  get 
into  the  huts,  with  the  stupid  pertinacity  of  the  species.  At  every  ranch 
house  dozens  were  killed,  we  ourselves  bagging  thirty-three,  all  slain  near 
the  house,  and  one,  to  our  unspeakable  sorrow,  in  it. 

In  making  a  journey  over  ground  we  know,  during  the  hot  weather 
we  often  prefer  to  ride  by  moonlight.  The  moon  shines  very  brightly 
through  the  dry,  clear  night  air,  turning  the  gray  buttes  into  glimmering 
silver ;  and  the  horses  travel  far  more  readily  and  easily  than  under  the 
glaring  noonday  sun.  The  road  between  my  upper  and  lower  ranch 
houses  is  about  forty  miles  long,  sometimes  following  the  river-bed,  and 
then  again  branching  off  inland,  crossing  the  great  plateaus  and  winding 
through  the  ravines  of  the  broken  country.  It  is  a  five-hours'  fair  ride  ; 
and  so,  in  a  hot  spell,  we  like  to  take  it  during  the  cool  of  the  night, 
starting  at  sunset.  After  nightfall  the  face  of  the  country  seems  to  alter 
marvelously,  and  the  clear  moonlight  only  intensifies  the  change.  The 
river  gleams  like  running  quicksilver,  and  the  moonbeams  play  over  the 
grassy  stretches  of  the  plateaus  and  glance  off  the  wind-rippled  blades  as 
they  would  from  water.  The  Bad  Lands  seem  to  be  stranger  and  wilder 
than  ever,  the  silvery  rays  turning  the  country  into  a  kind  of  grim  fairy- 


42  RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

land.  The  grotesque,  fantastic  outlines  of  the  higher  cliffs  stand  out  with 
startling  clearness,  while  the  lower  buttes  have  become  formless,  mis- 
shapen masses,  and  the  deep  gorges  are  in  black  shadow ;  in  the  dark- 
ness there  will  be  no  sound  but  the  rhythmic  echo  of  the  hoof-beats  of  the 
horses,  and  the  steady,  metallic  clank  of  the  steel  bridle-chains. 

But  the  fall  is  the  time  for  riding ;  for  in  the  keen,  frosty  air  neither 
man  nor  beast  will  tire,  though  out  from  the  dawn  until  the  shadows  have 
again  waxed  long  and  the  da)light  has  begun  to  wane,  warning  all  to 
push  straight  for  home  without  drawing  rein.  Then  deer-saddles  and 
elk-haunches  hano;  from  the  trees  near  the  house  ;  and  one  can  have  Pfood 
sport  right  on  the  sand  of  the  river-bed,  for  we  always  keep  shot-gun  or 
rifle  at  hand,  to  be  ready  for  any  prairie  chickens,  or  for  such  of  the  pass- 
ing water-fowl  as  light  in  the  river  near  us.  Occasionally  we  take  a  shot 
at  a  flock  of  waders,  among  which  the  pretty  avocets  are  the  most  strik- 
ing in  looks  and  manners.  Prairie  fowl  are  quite  plenty  all  round  us,  and 
occasionally  small  flocks  come  fairly  down  into  the  yard,  or  perch  among 
the  trees  near  by.  At  evening  they  fly  down  to  the  river  to  drink,  and  as 
they  sit  on  the  sand-bars  offer  fine  marks  for  the  rifles.  So  do  the  geese 
and  ducks  when  they  occasionally  light  on  the  same  places  or  paddle 
leisurely  down  stream  in  the  middle  of  the  river  ;  but  to  make  much  of  a 
bag  of  these  we  have  to  use  the  heavy  No.  lo,  choke-bore  shot-gun, 
while  the  little  i6-bore  fowling-piece  is  much  the  handiest  for  prairie 
fowl.  A  good  many  different  kinds  of  water-fowl  pass,  ranging  in  size 
trom  a  teal  duck  to  a  Canada  goose,  and  all  of  them  at  times  help  to  eke 
out  our  bill  of  fare.  Last  fall  a  white-fronted  goose  lighted  on  the  river 
in  front  of  the  ranch  house,  and  three  of  us,  armed  with  miscellaneous 
weapons,  went  out  after  him  ;  we  disabled  him,  and  then  after  much  bad 
shootinor,  and  more  violent  runninof  througrh  thick  sand  and  thick  under- 
brush,  finally  overtook  and  most  foully  butchered  him.  The  snow  geese 
and  common  wild  geese  are  what  we  usually  kill,  however. 

Sometimes  strings  of  sandhill  cranes  fly  along  the  river,  their  gut- 
tural clangor  being  heard  very  far  off.  They  usually  light  on  a  plateau, 
where  sometimes  they  form  rings  and  go  through  a  series  of  queer  antics, 
dancing  and  posturing  to  each  other.  They  are  exceedingly  wide-awake 
birds,  and  more  shy  and  wary  than  antelope,  so  that  they  are  rarely  shot ; 
yet  once  I  succeeded  in  stalking  up  to  a  group  in  the  early  morning,  and 
firing  into  them  rather  at  random,  my  bullet  killed  a  full-grown  female. 
Its  breast,  when  roasted,  proved  to  be  very  good  eating. 

Sometimes  we  vary  our  diet  with  fish — wall-eyed  pike,  ugly,  slimy 
catfish,  and  other  uncouth  finny  things,  looking  very  fit  denizens  of  the 


THE    HOME    RANCH 


43 


mud-choked  water ;  but  they  are  good  eating-  withal,  in  spite  of  their 
uncanny  appearance.  We  usually  catch  them  with  set  lines,  left  out  over- 
night in  the  deeper  pools. 


CRUISING     FUR     STOCK. 


The  cattle  are  fattest  and  in  best  condition  during  the  fall,  and  it  is 
then  that  the  bulk  of  the  beef  steers  are  gathered  and  shipped  —  lour- 
year-olds  as  a  rule,  though  some  threes  and  fives  go  along  with  them. 
Catde  are  a  nuisance  while  hunting  on  foot,  as  they  either  take  fright  and 
run  off  when  they  see  the  hunter,  scaring  all  game  within  sight,  or  else, 
what  is   worse,  follow  him,  blustering  and   bullying  and    pretending  that 


44 


RANCH    LIFE    AND     IHK    HUNTINC.-TRAIL 


they  are  on  the  point  of  cliarginy,  but  rarely  actually  doing  so.  Still,  they 
are  occasionally  really  dangerous,  and  it  is  never  entirely  safe  for  a  man  to 
be  on  foot  when  there  is  a  chance  of  meeting  the  droves  of  long-horned 
steers.  But  they  will  always  bluster  rather  than  fight,  whether  with  men 
or  beasts,  or  with  one  another.  The  bulls  and  some  of  the  steers  are  for- 
ever traveling  and  challenging  each  other,  never  ceasing  their  hoarse 
rumbling  and  moaning  and  their  long-drawn,  savage  bellowing,  tearing 
up  the  banks  with  their  horns  and  sending  little  spurts  of  dust  above 
their  shoulders  with  their  fore  hoofs ;  yet  they  do  not  seem  especially 
fond  of  real  fighting,  although,  of  course,  they  do  occasionally  have  most 
desperate  and  obstinate  set-tos  with  one  another.  A  large  bear  will  make 
short  work  of  a  bull :  a  few  months  ago  one  of  the  former  killed  a  very 
big  bull  near  a  ranch  house  a  score  of  miles  or  so  distant,  and  during  one 
night  tore  up  and  devoured  a  large  part  of  his  victim.  The  ranchman 
poisoned  the  carcass  and  killed  the  bear. 


OLD-STYLE  TEXAN   COWMAN. 


THE  ROUND-UP 


IV 


The  Round-Up 


JURING  the  winter-time  there  is  ordinarily  but  httle  work 
done  among  the  cattle.  There  is  some  line  riding,  and 
a  continual  lookout  is  kept  for  the  very  weak  animals, — 
usually  cows  and  calves,  who  have  to  be  driven  in,  fed, 
and  housed  ;  but  most  of  the  stock  are  left  to  shift  for  them- 
selves, undisturbed.  Almost  every  stock-growers'  association 
forbids  branding  any  calves  before  the  spring  round-up.  If 
great  bands  of  cattle  wander  off  the  range,  parties  may  be  fitted 
out  to  go  after  them  and  bring  them  back  ;  but  this  is  only  done  when 
absolutely  necessary,  as  when  the  drift  of  the  cattle  has  been  towards  an 
Indian  reservation  or  a  settled  granger  country,  for  the  weather  is  very 
severe,  and  the  horses  are  so  poor  that  their  food  must  be  carried  along. 

The  bulk  of  the  work  is  done  durino-  the  summer,  including-  the  late 
spring  and  early  fall,  and  consists  mainly  in  a  succession  of  round-ups, 
beginning,  with  us,  in  May  and  ending  towards  the  last  of  October. 

But  a  good  deal  may  be  done  in  the  intervals  by  riding  over  one's 
range.      Frequently,  too,  herding  will  be  practiced  on  a  large  scale. 

Still  more  important  is  the  "trail"  work;  cattle,  while  driven  from  one 
range  to  another,  or  to  a  shipping  point  for  beef,  being  said  to  be  "on  the 
trail."  For  years,  the  over-supply  from  the  vast  breeding  ranches  to  the 
south,  especially  in  Texas,  has  been  driven  northward  in  large  herds, 
either  to  the  shipping  towns  along  the  great  railroads,  or  else  to  the 
fattening  ranges  of  the  North-west ;  it  having  been  found,  so  far,  that 
while  the  calf  crop  is  larger  in  the  South,  beeves  become  much  heavier  in 
the  North.  Such  cattle,  for  the  most  part,  went  along  tolerably  well- 
marked  routes  or  trails,  which  became  for  the  time  being  of  great  impor- 
tance, flourishing — and  extremely  lawless — towns  growing  up  along  them; 
but  with  the  growth  of  the  railroad  system,  and  above  all  with  the  filling- 


46  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

up  of  the  northern  ranges,  these  trails  have  steadily  become  of  less  and 
less  consequence,  though  many  herds  still  travel  them  on  their  way  to  the 
alread)-  crowded  ranges  of  western  Dakota  and  Montana,  or  to  the  Can- 
adian regions  beyond.  The  trail  work  is  something  by  itself.  The  herds 
ma)-  be  on  the  trail  several  months,  averaging  fifteen  miles  or  less  a  day. 
1  he  cowboys  accompanying  each  have  to  undergo  much  hard  toil,  of  a 
peculiarly  same  and  wearisome  kind,  on  account  of  the  extreme  slowness 
with  which  everything  must  be  done,  as  trail  cattle  should  never  be  hur- 
ried. The  foreman  of  a  trail  outfit  must  be  not  only  a  veteran  cowhand, 
but  also  a  miracle  of  patience  and  resolution. 

Round-up  work  is  far  less  irksome,  there  being  an  immense  amount  of 
dash  and  excitement  connected  with  it ;  and  when  once  the  cattle  are  on 
the  range,  the  important  work  is  done  during  the  round-up.  On  cow 
ranches,  or  wherever  there  is  breeding  stock,  the  spring  round-up  is  the 
great  event  of  the  season,  as  it  is  then  that  the  bulk  of  the  calves  are 
branded.  It  usually  lasts  six  weeks,  or  thereabouts;  but  its  end  by  no 
means  implies  rest  for  the  stockman.  On  the  contrary,  as  soon  as  it  is 
over,  wagons  are  sent  to  work  out-of-the-way  parts  of  the  country  that 
have  been  passed  over,  but  where  cattle  are  supposed  to  have  drifted ;  and 
by  the  time  these  have  come  back  the  first  beef  round-up  has  begun,  and 
thereafter  beeves  are  steadily  gathered  and  shipped,  at  least  from  among 
the  larger  herds,  until  cold  weather  sets  in  ;  and  in  the  fall  there  is  another 
round-up,  to  brand  the  late  calves  and  see  that  the  stock  is  got  back  on 
the  range.  As  all  of  these  round-ups  are  of  one  character,  a  description 
of  the  most  important,  taking  place  in  the  spring,  will  be  enough. 

In  April  we  begin  to  get  up  the  horses.  Throughout  the  winter  very 
few  have  been  kept  for  use,  as  they  are  then  poor  and  weak,  and  must  be 
given  grain  and  hay  if  they  are  to  be  worked.  The  men  in  the  line  camps 
need  two  or  three  apiece,  and  each  man  at  the  home  ranch  has  a  couple 
more  ;  but  the  rest  are  left  out  to  shift  for  themselves,  which  the  tough, 
hardy  little  fellows  are  well  able  to  do.  Ponies  can  pick  up  a  living  where 
cattle  die ;  though  the  scanty  feed,  which  they  may  have  to  uncover  by 
pawing  off  the  snow,  and  the  bitter  weather  often  make  them  look  very 
gaunt  by  spring-time.  But  the  first  warm  rains  bring  up  the  green  grass, 
and  then  all  the  live-stock  gain  flesh  with  wonderful  rapidity.  When  the 
spring  round-up  begins  the  horses  should  be  as  fat  and  sleek  as  possible. 
After  running  all  winter  free,  even  the  most  sober  pony  is  apt  to  betray  an 
inclination  to  buck  ;  and,  if  possible,  we  like  to  ride  every  animal  once  or 
twice  before  we  begin  to  do  real  work  with  him.  Animals  that  have 
escaped  for  any  length  of  time  are  almost  as  bad  to  handle  as  if  they  had 


THE    ROUx\I)-UP 


47 


never  been  broken.  One  of  the  two  horses  mentioned  in  a  former  chap- 
ter as  having  been  gone  eighteen  months  has,  since  his  return,  been  sug- 
gestively dubbed  "  Dynamite  Jimmy,"  on  account  of  the  incessant  and  erup- 
tive energy  with  which  he  bucks.  Many  of  our  horses,  by  the  way,  are 
thus  named  from  some  feat  or  pecuHarity.  Wire  Fence,  when  being  broken, 
ran  into  one  of  the  abominations  after  which  he  is  now  called ;  Hacka- 
more  once  got  away  and  remained  out  for  three  weeks  with  a  hackamore, 
or  breaking-halter,  on  him ;  Macaulay  contracted  the  habit  of  regularly 
getting  rid  of  the  huge  Scotchman  to  whom  he  was  intrusted  ;  Bulberry 
Johnny  spent  the  hour  or  two  after  he  was  first  mounted  in  a  large  patch 
of  thorny  bulberry  bushes,  his  distracted  rider  unable  to  get  him  to  do  any- 
thing but  move  round  sidewise  in  a  circle ;  Fall  Back  would  never  get  to 
the  front ;  Water  Skip  always  jumps  mud-puddles  ;  and  there  are  a  dozen 
others  with  names  as  purely  descriptive. 

The  stock-growers  of  Montana,  of  the  western  part  of  Dakota,  and 
even  of  portions  of  extreme  northern  Wyoming, — that  is,  of  all  the  grazing 
lands  lying  in  the  basin  of  the  Upper  Missouri, — have  united,  and  formed 
themselves  into  the  great  Montana  Stock-growers'  Association.  Among 
the  countless  benefits  they  have  derived  from  this  course,  not  the  least  has 
been  the  way  in  which  the  various  round-ups  work  in  with  and  supple- 
ment one  another.  At  the  spring  meeting  of  the  association,  the  entire 
territory  mentioned  above,  including  perhaps  a  hundred  thousand  square 
miles,  is  mapped  out  into  round-up  districts,  which  generally  are  changed 
but  slightly  from  year  to  year,  and  the  times  and  places  for  the  round-ups  to 
begin  refixed  so  that  those  of  adjacent  districts  may  be  run  with  a  view  to 
the  best  interests  of  all.  Thus  the  stockmen  along  the  Yellowstone  have 
one  round-up ;  we  along  the  Little  Missouri  have  another ;  and  the 
country  lying  between,  through  which  the  Big  Beaver  flows,  is  almost 
equally  important  to  both.  Accordingly,  one  spring,  the  Litde  Missouri 
round-up,  beginning  May  25,  and  working  down-stream,  was  timed  so  as 
to  reach  the  mouth  of  the  Big  Beaver  about  June  i,  the  Yellowstone  round- 
up beginning  at  that  date  and  place.  Both  then  worked  up  the  Beaver 
together  to  its  head,  when  the  Yellowstone  men  turned  to  the  west  and 
we  bent  back  to  our  own  river  ;  thus  the  bulk  of  the  strayed  catde  of 
each  were  brought  back  to  their  respective  ranges.  Our  own  round-up 
district  covers  the  Bior  and  Litde  Beaver  creeks,  which  rise  near  each 
other,  but  empty  into  the  Little  Missouri  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
apart,  and  so  much  of  the  latter  river  as  lies  between  their  mouths. 

The  captain  or  foreman  of  the  round-up.  upon  whom  very  much  of  its 
efficiency  and  success  depends,  is  chosen  beforehand.      He  is,  of  course. 


48  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

an  expert  cownian,  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  country ;  and  he  must 
also  be  able  to  command  and  to  keep  control  of  the  wild  rough-riders 
he  has  under  him  —  a  feat  needing  both  tact  and  firmness. 

At  the  appointed  day  all  meet  at  the  place  from  which  the  round-up  is 
to  start.  Each  ranch,  of  course,  has  most  work  to  be  done  in  its  own 
round-up  district,  but  it  is  also  necessary  to  have  representatives  in  all 
those  surrounding  it.  A  large  outfit  may  employ  a  dozen  cowboys,  or 
over,  in  the  home  district,  and  yet  have  nearly  as  many  more  represent- 
ing its  interest  in  the  various  ones  adjoining.  Smaller  outfits  generally 
club  together  to  run  a  wagon  and  send  outside  representatives,  or  else  go 
along  with  their  stronger  neighbors,  they  paying  part  of  the  expenses. 
A  large  outfit,  with  a  herd  of  twenty  thousand  cattle  or  more,  can,  if 
necessary,  run  a  round-up  entirely  by  itself,  and  is  able  to  act  independ- 
ently of  outside  help ;  it  is  therefore  at  a  great  advantage  compared  with 
those  that  can  take  no  step  effectively  without  their  neighbors'  consent 
and  assistance. 

If  the  starting-point  is  some  distance  off,  it  may  be  necessary  to  leave 
home  three  or  four  days  in  advance.  Before  this  we  have  got  everything 
in  readiness  ;  have  overhauled  the  wagons,  shod  any  horse  whose  fore- 
feet are  tender, — as  a  rule,  all  our  ponies  go  barefooted, —  and  left  things 
in  order  at  the  ranch.  Our  outfit  may  be  taken  as  a  sample  of  every  one 
else's.  We  have  a  stout  four-horse  wagon  to  carry  the  bedding  and  the 
food  ;  in  its  rear  a  mess-chest  is  rigged  to  hold  the  knives,  forks,  cans, 
etc.  All  our  four  team-horses  are  strong,  willing  animals,  though  of  no 
great  size,  being  originally  just  "broncos,"  or  unbroken  native  horses, 
like  the  others.  The  teamster  is  also  cook :  a  man  who  is  a  really  first- 
rate  hand  at  both  driving  and  cooking — and  our  present  teamster  is 
both  —  can  always  command  his  price.  Besides  our  own  men,  some  cow- 
boys from  neighboring  ranches  and  two  or  three  representatives  from 
other  round-up  districts  are  always  along,  and  we  generally  have  at  least 
a  dozen  "'riders,"  as  they  are  termed, — that  is,  cowboys,  or  "cow- 
punchers,"  who  do  the  actual  cattle-work, — with  the  wagon.  Each  of 
these  has  a  string  of  eight  or  ten  ponies ;  and  to  take  charge  of  the 
saddle-band,  thus  ccnsistino;  of  a  hundred  odd  head,  there  are  two 
herders,  always  known  as  "horse-wranglers" — one  for  the  day  and  one 
for  the  night.  Occasionally  there  will  be  two  wagons,  one  to  carry  the 
bedding  and  one  the  food,  known,  respectively,  as  the  bed  and  the  mess 
wagon  ;   but  this  is  not  usual. 

While  traveling  to  the  meeting-point  the  pace  is  always  slow,  as  it  is 
an  object  to  bring  the  horses  on  the  ground  as  fresh  as  possible.    Accord- 


THE    ROUND-UP 


49 


ingly  we  keep  at  a  walk  almost  all  day,  and  the  riders,  having  nothing 
else  to  do,  assist  the  wranglers  in  driving  the  saddle-band,  three  or  four 
going  in  front,  and  others  on  the  side,  so  that  the  horses  shall  keep  on  a 
walk.  There  is  always  some  trouble  with  the  animals  at  the  starting  out, 
as   they  are  very  fresh  and    are   restive    under  the  saddle.      The  herd  is 


1)R1\'IN(,     I  <J     IHE    KOlM)-L'l' 


likely  to  stampede,  and  any  beast  that  is  frisky  or  vicious  is  sure  to  show 
its  worst  side.  To  do  really  effective  cow-work  a  pony  should  be  well 
broken  ;  but  many  even  of  the  old  ones  have  vicious  traits,  and  almost 
every  man  will  have  in  his  string  one  or  two  young  horses,  or  broncos, 
hardly  broken  at  all.  Thanks  to  the  rough  methods  of  breaking  in 
vogue  on  the  plains  many  even  of  the  so-called  broken  animals  retain 
always  certain  bad  habits,  the  most  common  being  that  of  bucking.  Ot 
the  sixty  odd  horses  on  my  ranch  all  but  half  a  dozen  were  broken  by 
ourselves ;  and  though  my  men  are  all  good  riders,  yet  a  good  rider  is 
not    necessarily  a   good   horse-breaker,   and    indeed    it   was   an    absolute 


-O  RANCH    LIFE    AND     IHE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

impossibility  properly  to  break  so  many  animals  in  the  short  time  at  our 
command — for  we  luul  to  use  them  almost  immediately  after  they  were 
bought.  In  consequence,  very  many  of  my  horses  have  to  this  day  traits 
not  likely  to  set  a  timid  or  a  clumsy  rider  at  his  ease.  One  or  two  run 
away  and  cannot  be  held  by  even  the  strongest  bit ;  others  can  hardly 
be  bridled  or  saddled  until  they  have  been  thrown  ;  two  or  three  have  a 
tendency  to  fall  over  backward ;  and  half  of  them  buck  more  or  less, 
some  so  hard  that  only  an  expert  can  sit  them ;  several  I  never  ride 
myself  save  from  dire  necessity. 

In  riding  these  wild,  vicious  horses,  and  in  careering  over  such  very 
bad  ground,  especially  at  night,  accidents  are  always  occurring.  A  man 
who  is  merely  an  ordinary  rider  is  certain  to  have  a  pretty  hard  time.  On 
my  first  round-up  I  had  a  string  of  nine  horses,  four  of  them  broncos,  only 
broken  to  the  extent  of  having  each  been  saddled  once  or  twice.  One  of 
them  it  was  an  impossibility  to  bridle  or  to  saddle  single-handed ;  it  was 
very  difficult  to  get  on  or  off  him,  and  he  was  exceedingly  nervous  if  a 
man  moved  his  hands  or  feet ;  but  he  had  no  bad  tricks.  The  second 
soon  became  perfectly  quiet.  The  third  turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  worst 
buckers  on  the  ranch  :  once,  when  he  bucked  me  off,  I  managed  to  fall  on 
a  stone  and  broke  a  rib.  The  fourth  had  a  still  worse  habit,  for  he  would 
balk  and  then  throw  himself  over  backward  :  once,  when  I  was  not  quick 
enough,  he  caught  me  and  broke  something  in  the  point  of  my  shoulder, 
so  that  it  was  some  weeks  before  I  could  raise  the  arm  freely.  My  hurts 
were  far  from  serious,  and  did  not  interfere  with  my  riding  and  working  as 
usual  through  the  round-up  ;  but  I  was  heartily  glad  when  it  ended,  and 
ever  since  have  religiously  done  my  best  to  get  none  but  gentle  horses  in 
my  own  string.  However,  every  one  gets  falls  from  or  with  his  horse  now 
and  then  in  the  cow  country  ;  and  even  my  men,  good  riders  though  they 
are,  are  sometimes  injured.  One  of  them  once  broke  his  ankle ;  another 
a  rib  ;  another  was  on  one  occasion  stunned,  remaining  unconscious  for 
some  hours ;  and  yet  another  had  certain  of  his  horses  buck  under  him  so 
hard  and  long  as  finally  to  hurt  his  lungs  and  make  him  cough  blood. 
Fatal  accidents  occur  annually  in  almost  every  district,  especially  if  there 
is  much  work  to  be  done  among  stampeded  cattle  at  night ;  but  on  my 
own  ranch  none  of  my  men  have  ever  been  seriously  hurt,  though  on  one 
occasion  a  cowboy  from  another  ranch,  who  was  with  my  wagon,  was 
killed,  his  horse  falling  and  pitching  him  heavily  on  his  head. 

For  bedding,  each  man  has  two  or  three  pairs  of  blankets,  and  a  tar- 
paulin or  small  wagon-sheet.  Usually,  two  or  three  sleep  together. 
Even  in  June  the   nights  are  generally  cool   and  pleasant,  and  it  is  chilly 


THE    ROUND-UP 


51 


in  the  earl)-  mornings ;  although  this  is  not  always  so,  and  when  the 
weather  stays  hot  and  mosquitoes  are  plenty,  the  hours  of  darkness,  even 
in  midsummer,  seem  painfull)'  long.  In  the  Bad  Lands  proper  we  are 
not  often  bothered  very  seriously  by  these  winged  pests ;  but  in  the  low 
bottoms  of  the  Big  Missouri,  and  beside  many  of  the  reedy  ponds  and 
great  sloughs  out  on  the  prairie,  they  are  a  perfect  scourge.  During  the 
very  hot  nights,  when  they  are  especially  active,  the  bed-clothes  make 
a  man  feel  absolutely  smothered,  and  yet  his  only  chance  for  sleep  is 
to  wrap  himself  tightly  up,  head  and  all ;  and  even  then  some  of  the 
pests  will  usually  force  their  way  in.  At  sunset  I  have  seen  the  mos- 
quitoes rise  up  from  the  land  like  a  dense  cloud,  to  make  the  hot,  stifling 
night  one  long  torture ;  the  horses  would  neither  lie  down  nor  graze, 
traveling  restlessly  to  and  fro  till  daybreak,  their  bodies  streaked  and 
bloody,  and  the  insects  settling  on  them  so  as  to  make  them  all  one  color, 
a  uniform  gray  ;  wdiile  the  men,  after  a  few  hours'  tossing  about  in  the 
vain  attempt  to  sleep,  rose,  built  a  little  fire  of  damp  sage  brush,  and  thus 
endured  the  misery  as  best  they  could  until  it  was  light  enough  to  work. 

But  if  the  weather  is  fine,  a  man  will  never  sleep  better  nor  more 
pleasantly  than  in  the  open  air  after  a  hard  day's  work  on  the  round-up  ; 
nor  will  an  ordinary  showier  or  gust  of  wind  disturb  him  in  the  least,  for 
he  simply  draws  the  tarpaulin  over  his  head  and  goes  on  sleeping.  But 
now  and  then  we  have  a  wind-storm  that  might  better  be  called  a  whirl- 
wind and  has  to  be  met  very  differently  ;  and  tw'O  or  three  days  or  nights 
of  rain  insure  the  wetting  of  the  blankets,  and  therefore  shivering  dis- 
comfort on  the  part  of  the  would-be  sleeper.  For  two  or  three  hours  all 
goes  well ;  and  it  is  rather  soothing  to  listen  to  the  steady  patter  of  the 
great  raindrops  on  the  canvas.  But  then  it  will  be  found  that  a  corner  has 
been  left  open  through  which  the  water  can  get  in,  or  else  the  tarpaulin 
will  begin  to  leak  somewhere ;  or  perhaps  the  water  will  have  collected 
in  a  hollow  underneath  and  have  begun  to  soak  through.  Soon  a  little 
stream  trickles  in,  and  every  effort  to  remedy  matters  merely  results  in  a 
change  for  the  worse.  To  move  out  of  the  way  insures  getting  wet  in  a 
fresh  spot ;  and  the  best  course  is  to  lie  still  and  accept  the  evils  that 
have  come  with  what  fortitude  one' can.  Even  thus,  the  first  night  a  man 
can  sleep  pretty  w  ell ;  but  if  the  rain  continues,  the  second  night,  wdien 
the  blankets  are  already  damp,  and  when  the  water  comes  through  more 
easily,  is  apt  to  be  most  unpleasant. 

Of  course,  a  man  can  take  little  spare  clothing  on  a  round-up ;  at  the 
very  outside  two  or  three  clean  handkerchiefs,  a  pair  of  socks,  a  change 
of  underclothes,  and  the  most   primitive  kind  of  wa.shing-apparatus,   all 


--,  RANCH    LIFE    AND     FHE    H  U  N  11  NCi  -  TKAIL 

wrapped  up  in  a  stout  jacket  which  is  to  be  worn  when  night-herding. 
The  inevitable  "shcker,"  or  oil-skin  coat,  which  gives  complete  protection 
from  the  wet.  is  alwavs  carried  behind  the  saddle. 


SAnni.ING    FRESH    HOKSES. 


At  the  meeting-place  there  is  usually  a  delay  of  a  day  or  two  to  let 
every  one  come  in ;  and  the  plain  on  which  the  encampment  is  made 
becomes  a  scene  of  great  busde  and  turmoil.  The  heavy  four-horse 
wagons  jolt  in  from  different  quarters,  the  horse-wranglers  rushing  madly 
to  and  fro  in  the  endeavor  to  keep  the  different  saddle-bands  from  min- 
gling, while  the  "riders,"  or  cowboys,  with  each  wagon  jog  along  in  a 
body.  The  representatives  from  outside  districts  ride  in  singly  or  by 
twos  and  threes,  every  man  driving  before  him  his  own  horses,  one  of 
them  loaded  with  his  bedding.  Each  wagon  wheels  out  of  the  way  into 
some  camping- place  not  too  near  the  others,  the  bedding  is  tossed  out  on 
the  ground,  and  then  every  one  is  left  to  do  what  he  wishes,  while  the  dif- 
ferent wagon  bosses,  or  foremen,  seek  out  the  captain  of  the  round-up 
to  learn  what  his  olans  are. 


THE    ROUND-UP 


53 


There  is  a  good  deal  of  rough  but  effective  discipHne  and  method  in 
the  way  in  which  a  round-up  is  carried  on.  The  captain  of  the  whole  has 
as  lieutenants  the  various  wagon  foremen,  and  in  making  demands  for  men 
to  do  some  special  service  he  will  usually  merely  designate  some  foreman 
to  take  charge  of  the  work  and  let  him  parcel  it  out  among  his  men  to  suit 
himself.  The  captain  of  the  round-up  or  the  foreman  of  a  wagon  may 
himself  be  a  ranchman ;  if  such  is  not  the  case,  and  the  ranchman  never- 
theless comes  along,  he  works  and  fares  precisely  as  do  the  other  cowboys. 

While  the  head  men  are  gathered  in  a  little  knot,  planning  out  the 
work,  the  others  are  dispersed  over  the  plain  in  every  direction,  racing, 
breaking  rough  horses,  or  simply  larking  with  one  another.  If  a  man  has 
an  especially  bad  horse,  he  usually  takes  such  an  opportunity,  when  he 
has  plenty  of  time,  to  ride  him ;  and  while  saddling  he  is  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  most  unsympathetic  associates  who  greet  with  uproarious  mirth 
any  misadventure.  A  man  on  a  bucking  horse  is  always  considered  fair 
game,  every  squeal  and  jump  of  the  bronco  being  hailed  with  cheers  of 
delighted  irony  for  the  rider  and  shouts  to  "  stay  with  him."  The  antics  of 
a  vicious  bronco  show  infinite  variety  of  detail,  but  are  all  modeled  on  one 
general  plan.  When  the  rope  settles  round  his  neck  the  fight  begins,  and 
it  is  only  after  much  plunging  and  snorting  that  a  twist  is  taken  over  his 
nose,  or  else  a  hackamore — a  species  of  severe  halter,  usually  made  of 
plaited  hair — slipped  on  his  head.  While  being  bridled  he  strikes 
viciously  with  his  fore  feet,  .and  perhaps  has  to  be  blindfolded  or  thrown 
down ;  and  to  get  the  saddle  on  him  is  quite  as  difficult.  When  saddled, 
he  may  get  rid  of  his  exuberant  spirits  by  bucking  under  the  saddle,  or 
may  reserve  all  his  energies  for  the  rider.  In  the  last  case,  the  man  keep- 
ing tight  hold  with  his  left  hand  of  the  cheek-strap,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
horse  from  getting  his  head  down  until  he  is  fairly  seated,  swings  himself 
quickly  into  the  saddle.  Up  rises  the  bronco's  back  into  an  arch  ;  his  head, 
the  ears  laid  straight  back,  goes  down  between  his  forefeet,  and,  squealing 
savagely,  he  makes  a  succession  of  rapid,  stiff-legged,  jarring  bounds. 
Sometimes  he  is  a  "  plunging  "  bucker,  who  runs  forward  all  the  time  wdiile 
bucking;  or  he  may  buck  steadily  in  one  place,  or  "sun-fish," — that  is, 
bring  first  one  shoulder  down  almost  to  the  ground  and  then  the  other, — 
or  else  he  may  change  ends  while  in  the  air.  A  first-class  rider  will  sit 
throughout  it  all  without  moving  from  the  saddle,  quirting*  his  horse  all 
the  time,  though  his  hat  may  be  jarred  off  his  head  and  his  revolver  out  of 
its  sheath.     After  a  few  jumps,  however,  the  average  man  grasps  hold  of 

*  Quirt  is  the  name  of  the  short  flexible  riding-whip  used  throughout  cowboy  land.  The  term 
is  a  Spanish  one. 


"4  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

the  horn  oi  the  saddle — the  dehghted  onlookers  meanwhile  earnestly 
advising-  him  not  to  "go  to  leather  " — and  is  contented  to  get  through  the 
atiair  in  any  shape  provided  he  can  escape  without  being  thrown  off.  An 
accident  is  of  necessity  borne  with  a  broad  grin,  as  any  attempt  to  resent 
the  raillery  of  the  bystanders — which  is  perfectly  good-humored — would 
be  apt  to  result  disastrously.  Cowboys  are  certainly  extremely  good 
riders.  As  a  class  they  have  no  superiors.  Of  course,  they  would  at  first 
be  at  a  disadvantage  in  steeple-chasing  or  fox-hunting,  but  their  average 
of  horsemanship  is  without  doubt  higher  than  that  of  the  men  who  take 
part  in  these  latter  amusements.  A  cowboy  would  learn  to  ride  across 
country  in  a  quarter  of  the  time  it  would  take  a  cross-country  rider  to 
learn  to  handle  a  vicious  bronco  or  to  do  good  cow-work  round  and  in 
a  herd. 

On  such  a  day,  when  there  is  no  regular  work,  there  will  often  also  be 
horse-races,  as  each  outfit  is  pretty  sure  to  have  some  running  pony  which 
it  believes  can  outpace  any  other.  These  contests  are  always  short-dis- 
tance dashes,  for  but  a  few  hundred  yards.  Horse- racing  is  a  mania 
with  most  plainsmen,  white  or  red.  A  man  with  a  good  racing  pony 
will  travel  all  about  with  it,  often  winning  large  sums,  visiting  alike  cow 
ranches,  frontier  towns,  and  Indian  encampments.  Sometimes  the  race  is 
"pony  against  pony,"  the  victor  taking  both  steeds.  In  racing  the  men 
ride  bareback,  as  there  are  hardly  any  light  saddles  in  the  cow  country. 
There  will  be  intense  excitement  and  very  heavy  betting  over  a  race 
between  two  well-known  horses,  together  with  a  good  chance  of  blood 
being  shed  in  the  attendant  quarrels.  Indians  and  whites  often  race 
against  each  other  as  well  as  among  themselves.  I  have  seen  several 
such  contests,  and  in  every  case  but  one  the  white  man  happened  to  win. 
A  race  is  usually  run  between  two  thick  rows  of  spectators,  on  foot  and  on 
horseback,  and  as  the  racers  pass,  these  rows  close  in  behind  them,  every 
man  \elling  and  shouting  with  all  the  strength  of  his  lungs,  and  all  waving 
their  hats  and  cloaks  to  encourage  the  contestants,  or  firing  off  their  revolv- 
ers and  saddle  guns.  The  little  horses  are  fairly  maddened,  as  is  natural 
enough,  and  run  as  if  they  were  crazy  :  were  the  distances  longer  some 
would  be  sure  to  drop  in  their  tracks. 

Besides  the  horse-races,  which  are,  of  course,  the  main  attraction,  the 
men  at  a  round-up  will  often  get  up  wrestling  matches  or  foot-races.  In 
fact,  every  one  feels  that  he  is  off  for  a  holiday ;  for  after  the  monotony  of 
a  long  winter,  the  cowboys  look  forward  eagerly  to  the  round-up,  where 
the  work  is  hard,  it  is  true,  but  exciting  and  varied,  and  treated  a  good 
deal   as   a   frolic.     There   is   no  eight-hour  law  in   cowboy  land :   during 


THE    ROUND-UP 


55 


round-up  time  we  often  count  ourselves  lucky  if  we  get  off  with  much  less 
than  sixteen  hours  ;  but  the  work  is  done  in  the  saddle,  and  the  men  are 
spurred  on  all  the  time  by  the  desire  to  outdo  one  another  in  feats  of  daring 
and  skillful  horsemanship.  There  is  very  little  quarreling  or  fighting;  and 
though  the  fun  often  takes  the  form  of  rather  rough  horse-play,  yet  the  prac- 
tice of  carrying  dangerous  weapons  makes  cowboys  show  far  more  rough 
courtesy  to  each  other  and  far  less  rudeness  to  strangers  than  is  the  case 
among,  for  instance.  Eastern  miners,  or  even  lumbermen.  When  a  quarrel 
may  very  probably  result  fatally,  a  man  thinks  twice  before  going  into  it: 


IkAlLlNG    CATTLE. 


warlike  people  or  classes  always  treat  one  another  with  a  certain  amount 
of  consideration  and  politeness.  The  moral  tone  of  a  cow-camp,  indeed, 
is  rather  high  than  otherwise.  Meanness,  cowardice,  and  dishonesty  are 
not  tolerated.  There  is  a  high  regard  for  truthfulness  and  keeping  one's 
word,  intense  contempt  for  any  kind  of  hypocrisy,  and  a  hearty  dislike  for 
a  man  who  shirks  his  work.  Many  of  the  men  gamble  and  drink,  but 
many  do  neither;  and  the  conversation  is  not  worse  than  in  most  bodies 
composed  wholly  of  male  human  beings.  A  cowboy  will  not  submit  tamely 
to  an  insult,  and  is  ever  ready  to  avenge  his  own  wrongs  ;   nor  has  he  an 


^6  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

overwrought  fear  of  shedding  blood.  He  possesses,  in  fact,  few  of  the 
emasculated,  milk-and-water  moralities  admired  by  the  pseudo-philan- 
thropists ;  but  he  does  possess,  to  a  very  high  degree,  the  stern,  manly 
qualities  that  are  invaluable  to  a  nation. 

The  method  of  work  is  simple.  The  mess-wagons  and  loose  horses, 
after  breaking  camp  in  the  morning,  move  on  in  a  straight  line  for  some 
few  miles,  going  into  camp  again  before  midday  ;  and  the  day  herd,  con- 
sisting of  all  the  cattle  that  have  been  found  far  off  their  range,  and  which 
are  to  be  brought  back  there,  and  of  any  others  that  it  is  necessary  to 
gather,  follows  on  afterwards.  Meanwhile  the  cowboys  scatter  out  and 
drive  in  all  the  cattle  from  the  country  round  about,  going  perhaps  ten  or 
fifteen  miles  back  from  the  line  of  march,  and  meeting  at  the  place  where 
camp  has  already  been  pitched.  The  wagons  always  keep  some  little  dis- 
tance from  one  another,  and  the  saddle-bands  do  the  same,  so  that  the 
horses  may  not  get  mixed.  It  is  rather  picturesque  to  see  the  four-horse 
teams  filing  down  at  a  trot  through  a  pass  among  the  buttes — the  sad- 
dle-bands being  driven  along  at  a  smart  pace  to  one  side  or  behind,  the 
teamsters  cracking  their  whips,  and  the  horse-wranglers  calling  and  shout- 
ing as  they  ride  rapidly  from  side  to  side  behind  the  horses,  urging  on  the 
stragglers  by  dexterous  touches  with  the  knotted  ends  of  their  long  lariats 
that  are  left  trailing  from  the  saddle.  The  country  driven  over  is  very 
rough,  and  it  is  often  necessary  to  double  up  teams  and  put  on  eight  horses 
to  each  wagon  in  going  up  an  unusually  steep  pitch,  or  hauling  through  a 
deep  mud-hole,  or  over  a  river  crossing  where  there  is  quicksand. 

The  speed  and  thoroughness  with  which  a  country  can  be  worked 
depends,  of  course,  very  largely  upon  the  number  of  riders.  Ours  is  prob- 
ably about  an  average  round-up  as  regards  size.  The  last  spring  I  was 
out,  there  were  half  a  dozen  wagons  along ;  the  saddle-bands  numbered 
about  a  hundred  each  ;  and  the  morning  we  started,  sixty  men  in  the 
saddle  splashed  across  the  shallow  ford  of  the  river  that  divided  the  plain 
where  we  had  camped  from  the  valley  of  the  long  winding  creek  up  which 
we  were  first  to  work. 

In  the  morning  the  cook  is  preparing  breakfast  long  before  the  first 
glimmer  of  dawn.  As  soon  as  it  is  ready,  probably  about  3  o'clock,  he 
utters  a  long-drawn  shout,  and  all  the  sleepers  feel  it  is  time  to  be  up  on 
the  instant,  for  they  know  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  delay  on  the 
round-up,  under  penalty  of  being  set  afoot.  Accordingly,  they  bundle  out, 
rubbing  their  eyes  and  yawning,  draw  on  their  boots  and  trousers, — if 
they  have  taken  the  latter  off, — roll  up  and  cord  their  bedding,  and  usually 
without  any  attempt  at  washing  crowd  over  to  the  little  smoldering  fire, 


THE    ROUND-UP 


57 


which  is  placed  in  a  hole  dug  in  the  ground,  so  that  there  may  be  no  risk 
of  its  spreading.  The  men  are  rarely  very  hungry  at  breakfast,  and  it  is 
a  meal  that  has  to  be  eaten  in  shortest  order,  so  it  is  perhaps  the  least 
important.  Each  man,  as  he  comes  up,  grasps  a  tin  cup  and  plate  from 
the  mess-box,  pours  out  his  tea  or  coffee,  with  sugar,  but,  of  course,  no 
milk,  helps  himself  to  one  or  two  of  the  biscuits  that  have  been  baked  in  a 
Dutch  oven,  and  perhaps  also  to  a  slice  of  the  fat  pork  swimming  in  the 
grease  of  the  frying-pan,  ladles  himself  out  some  beans,  if  there  are  any, 
and  squats  down  on  the  ground  to  eat  his  breakfast.  The  meal  is  not  an 
elaborate  one  ;  nevertheless  a  man  will  have  to  hurry  if  he  wishes  to  eat  it 
before  hearing  the  foreman  sing  out,  "Come,  boys,  catch  your  horses"; 
when  he  must  drop  everything  and  run  out  to  the  wagon  with  his  lariat. 
The  night  wrangler  is  now  bringing  in  the  saddle-band,  which  he  has  been 
up  all  night  guarding.  A  rope  corral  is  rigged  up  by  stretching  a  rope 
from  each  wheel  of  one  side  of  the  wagon,  making  a  V-shaped  space,  into 
which  the  saddle-horses  are  driven.  Certain  men  stand  around  to  keep 
them  inside,  while  the  others  catch  the  horses:  many  outfits  have  one  man 
to  do  all  the  roping.  As  soon  as  each  has  caught  his  horse  —  usually 
a  strong,  tough  animal,  the  small,  quick  ponies  being  reserved  for  the  work 
round  the  herd  in  the  afternoon  —  the  band,  now  in  charge  of  the  day 
wrangler,  is  turned  loose,  and  every  one  saddles  up  as  fast  as  possible.  It 
still  lacks  some  time  of  being  sunrise,  and  the  air  has  in  it  the  peculiar 
chill  of  the  early  morning.  When  all  are  saddled,  many  of  the  horses 
bucking  and  dancing  about,  the  riders  from  the  different  wagons  all 
assemble  at  the  one  where  the  captain  is  sitting,  already  mounted.  He 
waits  a  very  short  time  —  for  laggards  receive  but  scant  mercy — before 
announcing  the  proposed  camping-place  and  parceling  out  the  work 
among  those  present.  If,  as  is  usually  the  case,  the  line  of  march  is  along 
a  river  or  creek,  he  appoints  some  man  to  take  a  dozen  others  and  drive 
down  (or  up)  it  ahead  of  the  day  herd,  so  that  the  latter  will  not  have  to 
travel  through  other  cattle ;  the  day  herd  itself  being  driven  and  guarded 
by  a  dozen  men  detached  for  that  purpose.  The  rest  of  the  riders  are 
divided  into  two  bands,  placed  under  men  who  know  the  country,  and 
start  out,  one  on  each  side,  to  bring  in  every  head  for  fifteen  miles  back. 
The  captain  then  himself  rides  down  to  the  new  camping-place,  so  as  to  be 
there  as  soon  as  any  cattle  are  brought  in. 

Meanwhile  the  two  bands,  a  score  of  riders  in  each,  separate  and  make 
their  way  in  opposite  directions.  The  leader  of  each  tries  to  get  such  a 
"scatter"  on  his  men  that  they  will  cover  completely  all  the  land  gone 
over.     This  morning  work  is  called  circle  riding,  and  is  peculiarly  hard 


58 


RAXCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING  TRAIL 


in  the  Bad  Lands  on  account  of  the  remarkably  broken,  rugged  nature  of 
the  country.  The  men  come  in  on  lines  that  tend  to  a  common  center — 
as  if  the  sticks  of  a  fan  were  curved.     As  the  band  oroes  out,  the  leader 


THE    ROPE    CORRAL. 


trom  time  to  time  detaches  one  or  two  men  to  ride  down  through  certain 
sections  of  the  country,  making  the  shorter,  or  what  are  called  inside, 
circles,  while  he  keeps  on  ;  and  finally,  retaining  as  companions  the  two 
or  three  whose  horses  are  toughest,  makes  the  longest  or  outside  circle 
himself,  going  clear  back  to  the  divide,  or  whatever  the  point  may  be  that 
marks  the  limit  of  the  round-up  work,  and  then  turning  and  working 
straight  to  the  meeting-place.  Each  man,  of  course,  brings  in  every  head 
of  cattle  he  can  see. 

These  long,  swift  rides  in  the  glorious  spring  mornings  are  not  soon 
to  be  forgotten.  The  sweet,  fresh  air,  with  a  touch  of  sharpness  thus 
early  in  the  day,  and  the  rapid  motion  of  the  fiery  little  horse  combine  to 
make  a  man's  blood  thrill  and  leap  with  sheer  buoyant  light-heartedness 
and  eager,  exultant  pleasure  in  the  boldness  and  freedom  of  the  life  he  is 
leading.  As  we  climb  the  steep  sides  of  the  first  range  of  buttes,  wisps 
of  wavering  mist  still  cling  in  the  hollows  of  the  valley ;  when  we  come 
out  on  the  top  of  the  first  great  plateau,  the  sun  flames  up  over  its  edge, 
and  in  the  level,  red  beams  the  galloping  horsemen  throw  long  fantastic 


THE    ROUND-UP  59 

shadows.    Black  care  rarely  sits  behind  a  rider  whose  pace  is  fast  enough ; 
at  any  rate,  not  when  he  tirst  feels  the  horse  move  under  him. 

Sometimes  we  trot  or  pace,  and  again  we  lope  or  gallop ;  the  few 
who  are  to  take  the  outside  circle  must  needs  ride  both  hard  and  last. 
Although  only  grass-fed,  the  horses  are  tough  and  wiry  ;  and,  moreover, 
are  each  used  but  once  in  four  days,  or  thereabouts,  so  they  stand  the 
work  well.  The  course  out  lies  across  great  grassy  plateaus,  along  knite- 
like  ridge  crests,  among  winding  valleys  and  ravines,  and  over  acres  ol 
barren,  sun-scorched  buttes,  that  look  grimly  grotesque  and  forbidding, 
while  in  the  Bad  Lands  the  riders  unhesitatingly  go  down  and  over 
places  where  it  seems  impossible  that  a  horse  should  even  stand.  The 
line  of  horsemen  will  quarter  down  the  side  of  a  butte,  where  every  pony 
has  to  drop  from  ledge  to  ledge  like  a  goat,  and  will  go  over  the  shoulder 
of  a  soapstone  cliff,  when  wet  and  slippery,  with  a  series  of  plunges  and 
scrambles  which  if  unsuccessful  would  land  horses  and  riders  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  canon-like  washout  below.  In  descending  a  clay  butte  after 
a  rain,  the  pony  will  put  all  four  feet  together  and  slide  down  to  the  bot- 
tom almost  or  quite  on  his  haunches.  In  very  wet  weather  the  Bad 
Lands  are  absolutely  impassable ;  but  if  the  ground  is  not  slippery,  it  is  a 
remarkable  place  that  can  shake  the  matter-of-course  confidence  felt  by 
the  rider  in  the  capacity  of  his  steed  to  go  anywhere. 

When  the  men  on  the  outside  circle  have  reached  the  bound  set 
them, — whether  it  is  a  low  divide,  a  group  of  jagged  hills,  the  edge 
of  the  rolling,  limitless  prairie,  or  the  long,  waste  reaches  of  alkali  and 
sage  brush, — they  turn  their  horses'  heads  and  begin  to  work  down  the 
branches  of  the  creeks,  one  or  two  riding  down  the  bottom,  while  the 
others  keep  off  to  the  right  and  the  left,  a  little  ahead  and  fairly  high  up 
on  the  side  hills,  so  as  to  command  as  much  of  a  view  as  possible.  On 
the  level  or  rolling  prairies  the  cattle  can  be  seen  a  long  way  off,  and  it  is 
an  easy  matter  to  gather  and  to  drive  them ;  but  in  the  Bad  Lands  every 
little  pocket,  basin,  and  coulee  has  to  be  searched,  every  gorge  or  ravine 
entered,  and  the  dense  patches  of  brushwood  and  spindling,  wind-beaten 
trees  closely  examined.  All  the  cattle  are  carried  on  ahead  down  the 
creek;  and  it  is  curious  to  watch  the  different  behavior  of  the  different 
breeds.  A  cowboy  riding  off  to  one  side  of  the  creek,  and  seeing  a  num- 
ber of  lonor-horned  Texans  crrazingr  in  the  branches  of  a  set  of  coulees, 
has  merely  to  ride  across  the  upper  ends  of  these,  uttering  the  drawn-out 
"ei-koh-h-h,"  so  familiar  to  the  cattle-men.  and  the  long-horns  will  stop 
grazing,  stare  fixedly  at  him,  and  then,  wheeling,  strike  off  down  the 
coulees  at  a  trot,   tails   in   air,  to   be  carried  along  by  the  center   riders 


6o  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

when  they  reach  the  main  creek  into  which  the  coulees  lead.  Our  own 
range  cattle  are  not  so  wild,  but  nevertheless  are  easy  to  drive ;  while 
Eastern-raised  beasts  have  little  fear  of  a  horseman,  and  merely  stare 
stupidly  at  him  until  he  rides  directl)'  towards  them.  Every  little  bunch 
of  stock  is  thus  collected,  and  all  are  driven  along  together.  At  the  place 
where  some  large  fork  joins  the  main  creek  another  band  may  be  met, 
driven  by  some  of  the  men  who  have  left  earlier  in  the  day  to  take  one  of 
the  shorter  circles;  and  thus,  before  coming  down  to  the  bottom  where 
the  wagons  are  camped  and  where  the  actual  "round-up"  itself  is  to  take 
place,  this  one  herd  may  include  a  couple  of  thousand  head ;  or,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  longest  ride  may  not  result  in  the  finding  of  a  dozen 
animals.  As  soon  as  the  riders  are  in,  they  disperse  to  their  respective 
wagons  to  get  dinner  and  change  horses,  leaving  the  cattle  to  be  held  by 
one  or  two  of  their  number.  If  only  a  small  number  of  cattle  have  been 
gathered,  they  will  all  be  run  into  one  herd ;  if  there  are  many  of  them, 
however,  the  different  herds  will  be  held  separate. 

A  plain  where  a  round-up  is  taking  place  offers  a  picturesque  sight. 
I  well  remember  one  such.  It  was  on  a  level  bottom  in  a  bend  of  the 
river,  which  here  made  an  almost  semicircular  sweep.  The  bottom  was 
in  shape  a  long  oval,  hemmed  in  by  an  unbroken  line  of  steep  bluffs  so 
that  it  looked  like  an  amphitheater.  Across  the  faces  of  the  dazzling 
white  cliffs  there  were  sharp  bands  of  black  and  red,  drawn  by  the  coal 
seams  and  the  layers  of  burned  clay :  the  leaves  of  the  trees  and  the 
grass  had  the  vivid  green  of  spring-time.  The  wagons  were  camped 
among  the  cottonwood  trees  fringing  the  river,  a  thin  column  of  smoke 
rising  up  from  beside  each.  The  horses  were  grazing  round  the  out- 
skirts, those  of  each  wagon  by  themselves  and  kept  from  going  too  near 
the  others  by  their  watchful  guard.  In  the  great  circular  corral,  towards 
one  end,  the  men  were  already  branding  calves,  while  the  whole  middle 
of  the  bottom  was  covered  with  lowing  herds  of  cattle  and  shouting,  gal- 
loping cowboys.  Apparently  there  was  nothing  but  dust,  noise,  and  con- 
fusion ;  but  in  reality  the  work  was  proceeding  all  the  while  with  the 
utmost  rapidity  and  certainty. 

As  soon  as,  or  even  before,  the  last  circle  riders  have  come  in  and 
have  snatched  a  few  hasty  mouthfuls  to  serve  as  their  midday  meal,  we 
begin  to  work  the  herd  —  or  herds,  if  the  one  herd  would  be  of  too 
unwieldy  size.  The  animals  are  held  in  a  compact  bunch,  most  of  the 
riders  forming  a  ring  outside,  while  a  couple  from  each  ranch  successively 
look  the  herds  through  and  cut  out  those  marked  with  their  own  brand. 
It  is  difficult,  in  such  a  mass  of  moving  beasts, — for  they  do  not  stay  still, 


THE    ROUND-UP 


6l 


but  keep  weaving  in  and  out  among  each  other, —  to  find  all  of  one's  own 
animals:  a  man  must  have  natural  gifts,  as  well  as  great  experience, 
before  he  becomes  a  good  brand-reader  and  is  able  really  to  "clean  up  a 
herd  " — that  is,  be  sure  he  has  left  nothing  of  his  own  in  it. 


CUTTING    OUT     A     STEER. 


To  do  good  work  in  cutting  out  from  a  herd,  not  only  should  the  rider 
be  a  good  horseman,  but  he  should  also  have  a  skillful,  thoroughly  trained 
horse.  A  good  cutting  pony  is  not  common,  and  is  generally  too  valuable 
to  be  used  anywhere  but  in  the  herd.  Such  an  one  enters  thoroughly 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  and  finds  out  immediately  the  animal  his  mas- 


62  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

ter  is  after ;  he  will  then  follow  it  closely  of  his  own  accord  through  every 
wheel  and  double  at  top  speed.  When  looking  through  the  herd,  it  is 
necessary  to  move  slowly  ;  and  when  any  animal  is  found  it  is  taken  to 
the  outskirts  at  a  walk,  so  as  not  to  alarm  the  others.  Once  at  the  out- 
side, however,  the  cowboy  has  to  ride  like  lightning ;  for  as  soon  as  the 
beast  he  is  after  finds  itself  separated  from  its  companions  it  endeavors  to 
break  back  among  them,  and  a  young,  range- raised  steer  or  heifer  runs 
like  a  deer.  In  cutting-  out  a  cow  and  a  calf  two  men  have  to  work 
together.  As  the  animals  of  a  brand  are  cut  out  they  are  received  and 
held  apart  by  some  rider  detailed  for  the  purpose,  who  is  said  to  be 
"  holding  the  cut." 

All  this  time  the  men  holding  the  herd  have  their  hands  full,  for  some 
animal  is  continually  trying  to  break  out,  when  the  nearest  man  flies  at  it 
at  once  and  after  a  smart  chase  brings  it  back  to  its  fellows.  As  soon  as 
all  the  cows,  calves,  and  whatever  else  is  being  gathered  have  been  cut 
out.  the  rest  are  driven  clear  off  the  ground  and  turned  loose,  being 
headed  in  the  direction  contrary  to  that  in  which  we  travel  the  following 
day.  Then  the  riders  surround  the  next  herd,  the  men  holding  cuts  move 
them  up  near  it,  and  the  work  is  begun  anew. 

If  it  is  necessary  to  throw  an  animal,  either  to  examine  a  brand  or  lor 
any  other  reason,  half  a  dozen  men  will  have  their  ropes  down  at  once; 
and  then  it  is  spur  and  quirt  in  the  rivalry  to  see  which  can  outdo  the 
other  until  the  beast  is  roped  and  thrown.  A  first-class  hand  will, 
unaided,  rope,  throw,  and  tie  down  a  cow  or  steer  in  wonderfully  short 
time ;  one  of  the  favorite  tests  of  competitive  skill  among  the  cowboys  is 
the  speed  with  which  this  feat  can  be  accomplished.  Usually,  however, 
one  man  ropes  the  animal  by  the  head  and  another  at  the  same  time  gets 
the  loop  of  his  lariat  over  one  or  both  its  hind  legs,  when  it  is  twisted 
over  and  stretched  out  in  a  second.  In  following  an  animal  on  horse- 
back the  man  keeps  steadily  swinging  the  rope  round  his  head,  by  a  dex- 
terous motion  of  the  wrist  only,  until  he  gets  a  chance  to  throw  it ;  when 
on  foot,  especially  if  catching  horses  in  a  corral,  the  loop  is  allowed  to 
drag  loosely  on  the  ground.  A  good  roper  will  hurl  out  the  coil  with 
marvelous  accuracy  and  force ;  it  fairly  whistles  through  the  air,  and  set- 
tles round  the  object  with  almost  infallible  certainty.  Mexicans  make  the 
best  ropers  ;  but  some  Texans  are  very  little  behind  them.  A  good  horse 
takes  as  much  interest  in  the  work  as  does  his  rider,  and  the  instant  the 
noose  settles  over  the  victim  wheels  and  braces  himself  to  meet  the  shock, 
standing  with  his  legs  firmly  planted,  the  steer  or  cow  being  thrown  with 
a  jerk.  An  unskillful  rider  and  untrained  horse  will  often  themselves  be 
thrown  when  the  strain  comes. 


THE    ROUND-UP 


63 


Sometimes  an  animal  —  usually  a  cow  or  steer,  but,  strangely  enough, 
very  rarely  a  bull  —  will  get  fighting  mad,  and  turn  on  the  men.  If  on 
the  drive,  such  a  beast  usually  is  simply  dropped  out ;  but  if  they  have 
time,  nothing  delights  the  cowboys  more  than  an  encounter  of  this  sort, 
and  the  charging  brute  is  roped  and  tied  down  in  short  order.  Often 
such  an  one  will  make  a  very  vicious  fight,  and  is  most  dangerous.  Once 
a  fighting  cow  kept  several  of  us  busy  for  nearly  an  hour ;  she  gored  two 
ponies,  one  of  them,  which  was,  luckily,  hurt  but  slightly,  being  my  own 
pet  cutting  horse.  If  a  steer  is  hauled  out  of  a  mud-hole,  its  first  act  is 
usually  to  charge  the  rescuer. 

As  soon  as  all  the  brands  of  cattle  are  worked,  and  the  animals  that 
are  to  be  driven  along  have  been  put  in  the  day  herd,  attention  is  turned 
to  the  cows  and  calves,  which  are  already  gathered  in  different  bands,  con- 
sisting each  of  all  the  cows  of  a  certain  brand  and  all  the  calves  that  are 
following-  them.  If  there  is 
a  corral,  each  band  is  in  turn 
driven    into    it;    if   there    is  -Y^L^r°?^ 

none,  a  ringr  of  riders  does 
duty  in  its  place.      A  fire  is 


^<^r,<r  7^-^^^^ 


BRANDING    A    CALF. 


built,  the  irons  heated,  and  a  dozen  men  dismount  to,  as  it  is  called, 
"wrestle"  the  calves.  The  best  two  ropers  go  in  on  their  horses  to  catch 
the  latter;  one  man  keeps  tally,  a  couple  put  on  the  brands,  and  the  others 
seize,  throw,  and  hold  the  little  unfortunates.  A  first-class  roper  invari- 
ably catches  the  calf  by  both  hind  feet,  and  then,  having  taken  a  twist  with 
his  lariat  round  the  horn  of  the  saddle,  drags  the  bawling  little  creature, 
extended  at  full-length,  up  to  the  fire,  where  it  is  held  before  it  can  make 


64 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


a  struggle.  A  less  skillful  roper  catches  round  the  neck,  and  then,  if  the 
calf  is  a  large  one,  the  man  who  seizes  it  has  his  hands  full,  as  the  bleat- 
ing, bucking  animal  develops  astonishing  strength,  cuts  the  wildest  capers, 


BRANDING     A     HOKSE. 


and  resists  frantically  and  with  all  its  power.  If  there  are  seventy  or  eighty 
♦  calves  in  a  corral,  the  scene  is  one  of  the  greatest  confusion.  The  ropers, 
spurring  and  checking  the  fierce  little  horses,  drag  the  calves  up  so  quickly 
that  a  dozen  men  can  hardly  hold  them  ;  the  men  with  the  irons,  black- 
ened with  soot,  run  to  and  fro  ;  the  calf-wrestlers,  grimy  with  blood,  dust, 
and  sweat,  work  like  beavers ;  while  with  the  voice  of  a  stentor  the  tally- 
man shouts  out  the  number  and  sex  of  each  calf  The  dust  rises  in  clouds, 
and  the, shouts,  cheers,  curses,  and  laughter  of  the  men  unite  with  the  low- 
ing of  the  cows  and  the  frantic  bleating  of  the  roped  calves  to  make  a  per- 
fect babel.  Now  and  then  an  old  cow  turns  vicious  and  puts  every  one 
out  of  the  corral.  Or  a  7naverick  bull, — that  is,  an  unbranded  bull, — a 
yearling  or  a  two-years-old,  is  caught,  thrown,  and  branded ;  when  he  is 
let  up  there  is  sure  to  be  a  fine  scatter,  Down  goes  his  head,  and  he  bolts 
at  the  nearest  man,  who  makes  out  of  the  way  at  top  speed,  amidst  roars 
of  laughter  from  all  of  his  companions  ;  while  the  men  holding  down  calves 
swear  savagely  as  they  dodge  charging  mavericks,  trampling  horses,  and 
taut  lariats  with  frantic,  plunging  little  beasts  at  the  farther  ends. 


THE    ROUND-UP  65 

Every  morning  certain  riders  are  detached  to  drive  and  to  guard  the 
day  herd,  which  is  most  monotonous  work,  the  men  being  on  from  4  in 
the  morning  till  8  in  the  evening,  the  only  rest  coming  at  dinner-time, 
when  they  change  horses.  When  the  herd  has  reached  the  camping- 
ground  there  is  nothing  to  do  but  to  loll  listlessly  over  the  saddle-bow  in 
the  blazing  sun  watching  the  cattle  feed  and  sleep,  and  seeing  that  they  do 
not  spread  out  too  much.  Plodding  slowly  along  on  the  trail  through  the 
columns  of  dust  stirred  up  by  the  hoofs  is  not  much  better.  Cattle  travel 
best  and  fastest  strung  out  in  long  lines ;  the  swiftest  taking  the  lead  in 
single  file,  while  the  weak  and  the  lazy,  the  young  calves  and  the  poor 
cows,  crowd  together  in  the  rear.  Two  men  travel  along  with  the  leaders, 
one  on  each  side,  to  point  them  in  the  right  direction  ;  one  or  two  others 
keep  by  the  flanks,  and  the  rest  are  in  the  rear  to  act  as  "drag-drivers" 
and  hurry  up  the  phalanx  of  reluctant  weaklings.  If  the  foremost  of  the 
string  travels  too  fast,  one  rider  will  go  along  on  the  trail  a  few  rods  ahead, 
and  thus  keep  them  back  so  that  those  in  the  rear  will  not  be  left  behind. 

Generally  all  this  is  very  tame  and  irksome  ;  but  by  fits  and  starts  there 
will  be  little  flurries  of  excitement.  Two  or  three  of  the  circle  riders  may 
unexpectedly  come  over  a  butte  near  by  with  a  bunch  of  cattle,  which  at 
once  start  for  the  day  herd,  and  then  there  will  be  a  few  minutes'  furious 
riding  hither  and  thither  to  keep  them  out.  Or  the  cattle  may  begin  to 
run,  and  then  get  "milling"  —  that  is,  all  crowd  together  into  a  mass  like 
a  ball,  wherein  they  move  round  and  round,  trying  to  keep  their  heads 
towards  the  center,  and  refusing  to  leave  it.  The  only  way  to  start  them 
is  to  force  one's  horse  in  among  them  and  cut  out  some  of  their  number^*-* 
which  then  begin  to  travel  off  by  themselves,  when  the  others  will  prob- 
ably follow.  But  in  spite  of  occasional  incidents  of  this  kind,  day-herd- 
ing has  a  dreary  sameness  about  it  that  makes  the  men  dislike  and  seek 
to  avoid  it. 

From  8  in  the  evening  till  4  in  the  morning  the  day  herd  becomes  a 
night  herd.  Each  wagon  in  succession  undertakes  to  guard  it  for  a  night, 
dividing  the  time  into  watches  of  two  hours  apiece,  a  couple  of  riders  tak- 
ing each  watch.  This  is  generally  chilly  and  tedious ;  but  at  times  it  is 
accompanied  by  intense  excitement  and  danger,  when  the  cattle  become 
stampeded,  whether  by  storm  or  otherwise.  The  first  and  the  last  watches 
are  those  chosen  by  preference ;  the  others  are  disagreeable,  the  men  hav- 
ing to  turn  out  cold  and  sleepy,  in  the  pitchy  darkness,  the  two  hours  of 
chilly  wakefulness  completely  breaking  the  night's  rest.  The  first  guards 
have  to  bed  the  cattle  down,  though  the  day-herders  often  do  this  them- 
selves :   it  simply  consists  in  hemming  them  into  as  small  a  space  as  pos- 


66 


RANCH    LIFE    AxND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


THE    HERD   AT    NIGHT. 


sible,  and  then  ridin^^  round  them  until  they  He  down  and  fall  asleep. 
Often,  especially  at  first,  this  takes  some  time — the  beasts  will  keep  rising 
and  lying  down  again.  When  at  last  most  become  quiet,  some  perverse 
brute  of  a  steer  will  deliberately  hook  them  all  up ;  they  keep  moving  in 
and  out  among  one  another,  and  long  strings  of  animals  suddenly  start  out 
from   the  herd  at  a  stretching  walk,  and  are  turned  back  by  the  nearest 


THE    ROUNU-UP  67 

cowboy  only  to  break  forth  at  a  new  spot.  When  finally  they  have  lain 
down  and  are  chewing  their  cud  or  slumbering,  the  two  night  guards 
begin  riding  round  them  in  opposite  ways,  often,  on  very  dark  nights, 
calling  or  singing  to  them,  as  the  sound  of  the  human  voice  on  such  occa- 
sions seems  to  have  a  tendency  to  quiet  them.  In  ink)'  black  weather,  espe- 
cially when  rainy,  it  is  both  difficult  and  unpleasant  work  ;  the  main  trust 
must  be  placed  in  the  horse,  which,  if  old  at  the  business,  will  of  its  own 
accord  keep  pacing  steadily  round  the  herd,  and  head  off  any  animals  that, 
unseen  by  the  rider's  eyes  in  the  darkness,  are  trying  to  break  out.  Usually 
the  watch  passes  off  without  incident,  but  on  rare  occasions  the  cattle 
become  restless  and  prone  to  stampede.  Anything  may  then  start  them 
— the  plunge  of  a  horse,  the  sudden  approach  of  a  coyote,  or  the  arrival  of 
some  outside  steers  or  cows  that  have  smelt  them  and  come  up.  Every 
animal  in  the  herd  will  be  on  its  feet  in  an  instant,  as  if  by  an  electric 
shock,  and  off  with  a  rush,  horns  and  tail  up.  Then,  no  matter  how  rough 
the  ground  nor  how  pitchy  black  the  night,  the  cowboys  must  ride  for  all 
there  is  in  them  and  spare  neither  their  own  nor  their  horses'  necks. 
Perhaps  their  charges  break  away  and  are  lost  altogether ;  perhaps,  by 
desperate  galloping,  they  may  head  them  off,  get  them  running  in  a  circle, 
and  finally  stop  them.  Once  stopped,  they  may  break  again,  and  possibly 
divide  up,  one  cowboy,  perhaps,  following  each  band.  I  have  known  six 
suqh  stops  and  renewed  stampedes  to  take  place  in  one  night,  the  cowboy 
staying  with  his  ever-diminishing  herd  of  steers  until  daybreak,  when  he 
managed  to  get  them  under  control  again,  and,  by  careful  humoring  of  his 
jaded,  staggering  horse,  finally  brought  those  that  w^ere  left  back  to  the 
camp,  several  miles  distant.  The  riding  in  these  night  stampedes  is  wild 
and  dangerous  to  a  degree,  especially  if  the  man  gets  caught  in  the  rush 
of  the  beasts.  It  also  frequently  necessitates  an  immense  amount  of  work 
in  collecting  the  scattered  animals.  On  one  such  occasion  a  small  party  of 
us  were  thirty-six  hours  in  the  saddle,  dismounting  only  to  change  horses 
or  to  eat.  We  were  almost  worn  out  at  the  end  of  the  time  ;  but  it  must 
be  kept  in  mind  that  for  a  long  spell  of  such  work  a  stock-saddle  is  far 
less  tiring  than  the  ordinary  Eastern  or  English  one,  and  in  every  way 
superior  to  it. 

By  very  hard  riding,  such  a  stampede  may  sometimes  be  prevented. 
Once  we  were  bringing  a  thousand  head  of  young  cattle  down  to  my 
lower  ranch,  and  as  the  river  was  high  were  obliged  to  take  the  inland 
trail.  The  third  night  we  were  forced  to  make  a  dry  camp,  the  cattle  hav- 
ing had  no  water  since  the  morning.  Nevertheless,  we  got  them  bedded 
down  without  difficulty,  and  one  of  the  cowboys  and  myself  stood  first 


68  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

guard.  But  very  soon  after  nightfall,  when  the  darkness  had  become  com- 
plete, the  thirsty  brutes  of  one  accord  got  on  their  feet  and  tried  to  break 
out.  The  only  salvation  was  to  keep  them  close  together,  as,  if  they  once 
got  scattered,  we  knew  they  could  never  be  gathered ;  so  I  kept  on  one 
side,  and  the  cowboy  on  the  other,  and  never  in  my  life  did  I  ride  so  hard. 
In  the  darkness  I  could  but  dimly  see  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  herd,  as 
with  whip  and  spurs  I  ran  the  pony  along  its  edge,  turning  back  the  beasts 
at  one  point  barely  in  time  to  wheel  and  keep  them  in  at  another.  The 
ground  was  cut  up  by  numerous  little  gullies,  and  each  of  us  got  several 
falls,  horses  and  riders  turning  complete  somersaults.  We  were  dripping 
with  sweat,  and  our  ponies  quivering  and  trembling  like  quaking  aspens, 
when,  after  more  than  an  hour  of  the  most  violent  exertion,  we  finally  got 
the  herd  quieted  again. 

On  another  occasion  while  with  the  round-up  we  were  spared  an 
excessively  unpleasant  night  only  because  there  happened  to  be  two  or 
three  great  corrals  not  more  than  a  mile  or  so  away.  All  day  long  it 
had  been  raining  heavily,  and  we  were  well  drenched ;  but  towards  even- 
ing it  lulled  a  little,  and  the  day  herd,  a  very  large  one,  of  some  two  thou- 
sand head,  was  gathered  on  an  open  bottom.  We  had  turned  the  horses 
loose,  and  in  our  oilskin  slickers  cowered,  soaked  and  comfortless,  under 
the  lee  of  the  wagon,  to  take  a  meal  of  damp  bread  and  lukewarm  tea, 
the  sizzling  embers  of  the  fire  having  about  given  up  the  ghost  after  a 
fruitless  struggle  with  the  steady  downpour.  Suddenly  the  wind  began 
to  come  in  quick,  sharp  gusts,  and  soon  a  regular  blizzard  was  blowing, 
driving  the  rain  in  stinging  level  sheets  before  it.  Just  as  we  were  pre- 
paring to  turn  into  bed,  with  the  certainty  of  a  night  of  more  or  less 
chilly  misery  ahead  of  us,  one  of  my  men,  an  iron-faced  personage,  whom 
no  one  would  ever  have  dreamed  had  a  weakness  for  poetry,  looked 
towards  the  plain  where  the  cattle  were,  and  remarked,  "I  guess  there's 
'racing  and  chasing  on  Cannobie  Lea'  now,  sure."  Following  his  gaze,  I 
saw^  that  the  cattle  had  begun  to  drift  before  the  storm,  the  night  guards 
being  evidently  unable  to  cope  with  them,  while  at  the  other  wagons 
riders  were  saddling  in  hot  haste  and  spurring  off  to  their  help  through 
the  blinding  rain.  Some  of  us  at  once  ran  out  to  our  own  saddle-band. 
All  of  the  ponies  were  standing  huddled  together,  with  their  heads  down 
and  their  tails  to  the  wind.  They  were  wild  and  restive  enough  usually ; 
but  the  storm  had  cowed  them,  and  we  were  able  to  catch  them  without 
either  rope  or  halter.  We  made  quick  work  of  saddling ;  and  the  second 
each  man  was  ready,  away  he  loped  through  the  dusk,  splashing  and  slip- 
ping in  the  pools  of  water  that  studded  the  muddy  plain.     Most  of  the 


THE    ROUND-UP 


69 


m 


'ixmsmsv 


IN    A    STAMPEDE. 


frMwc  Wmj-h 


riders  were  already  out  when  we  arrived.  The  cattle  were  gathered  in  a 
compact,  wedge-shaped,  or  rather  fan -shaped  mass,  with  their  tails  to  the 
wind  —  that  is,  towards  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge  or  fan.  In  front  of  this 
fan-shaped  mass  of  frightened,  maddened  beasts  was  a  long  line  of  cow- 


-jQ  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

boys,  each  muffled  in  his  sHcker  and  with  his  broad  hat  pulled  down  over 
his  eyes,  to  shield  him  from  the  pelting"  rain.  When  the  cattle  were  quiet 
for  a  moment  every  horseman  at  once  turned  round  with  his  back  to  the 
wind,  and  the  whole  line  stood  as  motionless  as  so  many  sentries.  Then, 
if  the  cattle  began  to  spread  out  and  overlap  at  the  ends,  or  made  a  rush 
and  broke  through  at  one  part  of  the  lines,  there  would  be  a  change  into 
wild  activity.  The  men,  shouting  and  swaying  in  their  saddles,  darted  to 
and  fro  with  reckless  speed,  utterly  heedless  of  danger — now  racing  to 
the  threatened  point,  now  checking  and  wheeling  their  horses  so  sharply 
as  to  bring  them  square  on  their  haunches,  or  even  throw  them  flat  down, 
while  the  hoofs  plowed  long  furrows  in  the  slippery  soil,  until,  after  some 
minutes  of  this  mad  galloping  hither  and  thither,  the  herd,  having  drifted 
a  hundred  yards  or  so,  would  be  once  more  brought  up  standing.  We 
always  had  to  let  them  drift  a  little  to  prevent  their  spreading  out  too 
much.  The  din  of  the  thunder  was  terrific,  peal  following  peal  until  they 
mingled  in  one  continuous,  rumbling  roar;  and  at  every  thunder-clap 
louder  than  its  fellows  the  cattle  would  try  to  break  away.  Darkness  had 
set  in,  but  each  flash  of  lightning  showed  us  a  dense  array  of  tossing 
horns  and  staring  eyes.  It  grew  always  harder  to  hold  in  the  herd ;  but 
the  drift  took  us  along  to  the  corrals  already  spoken  of,  whose  entrances 
were  luckily  to  windward.  As  soon  as  we  reached  the  first  we  cut  off 
part  of  the  herd,  and  turned  it  within  ;  and  after  again  doing  this  with  the 
second,  we  were  able  to  put  all  the  remaining  animals  into  the  third.  The 
instant  the  cattle  were  housed  five-sixths  of  the  horsemen  started  back  at 
full  speed  for  the  wagons ;  the  rest  of  us  barely  waited  to  put  up  the  bars 
and  make  the  corrals  secure  before  galloping  after  them.  We  had  to  ride 
right  in  the  teeth  of  the  driving  storm ;  and  once  at  the  wagons  we  made 
small  delay  in  crawling  under  our  blankets,  damp  though  the  latter  were, 
for  we  were  ourselves  far  too  wet,  stiff,  and  cold  not  to  hail  with  grateful 
welcome  any  kind  of  shelter  from  the  wind  and  the  rain. 

All  animals  were  benumbed  by  the  violence  of  this  gale  of  cold  rain  : 
a  prairie  chicken  rose  from  under  my  horse's  feet  so  heavily  that,  thought- 
lessly striking  at  it,  I  cut  it  down  with  my  whip  ;  while  when  a  jack  rabbit 
got  up  ahead  of  us,  it  was  barely  able  to  limp  clumsily  out  of  our  way. 

But  though  there  is  much  work  and  hardship,  rough  fare,  monotony, 
and  exposure  connected  with  the  round-up,  yet  there  are  few  men  who  do 
not  look  forward  to  it  and  back  to  it  with  pleasure.  The  only  fault  to  be 
found  is  that  the  hours  of  work  are  so  long  that  one  does  not  usually  have 
enough  time  to  sleep.     The  food,  if  rough,  is  good:    beef,  bread,  pork. 


THE    ROUND-UP  -I 

beans,  coffee  or  tea,  always  canned  tomatoes,  and  often  rice,  canned  corn, 
or  sauce  made  from  dried  apples.  The  men  are  good-humored,  bold, 
and  thoroughly  interested  in  their  business,  continually  vying  with  one 
another  in  the  effort  to  see  which  can  do  the  work  best.  It  is  superbly 
health-giving,  and  is  full  of  excitement  and  adventure,  calling  for  the 
exhibition  of  pluck,  self-reliance,  hardihood,  and  dashing  horsemanship  ; 
and  of  all  forms  of  physical  labor  the  easiest  and  pleasantest  is  to  sit 
in  the  saddle. 


ROPED ! 


12 


A    TEXAN    PONY. 


WINTER  WEATHER 


?"-'      ■■'■>■**: 


S^HESSM-'. 


LINE    HIDING    IN    W  I 


^. 


V 

Winter    Weather 


^  THEN  the  days  have  dwindled  to  their  shortest,  and 

;  /  the   nights   seem    never  ending,   then   all  the   great 

f/\/  northern  plains  are  changed  into  an  abode  of  iron 
i  M  desolation.  Sometimes  furious  gales  blow  out  of  the 
^  north,  driving  before  them  the  clouds  of  blinding  snow- 
'"C^dust,  wrapping  the  mantle  of  death  round  every  unshel- 
^^^^j'-tered  being  that  faces  their  unshackled  anger.  They 
roar  in  a  thunderous  bass  as  they  sweep  across  the  prairie 
or  whirl  through  the  naked  canons  ;  they  shiver  the  great  brittle  cotton- 
woods,  and  beneath  their  rough  touch  the  icy  limbs  of  the  pines  that 
cluster  in  the  gorges  sing  like  the  chords  of  an  yEolian  harp.  Again,  in 
the  coldest  midwinter  weather,  not  a  breath  of  wind  may  stir ;  and  then 
the  still,  merciless,  terrible  cold  that  broods  over  the  earth  like  the  shadow 
of  silent  death  seems  even  more  dreadful  in  its  gloomy  rigor  than  is  the 
lawless  madness  of  the  storms.  All  the  land  is  like  eranite;  the  ereat 
rivers  stand  still  in  their  beds,  as  if  turned  to  frosted  steel.  In  the  lono- 
nights  there  is  no  sound  to  break  the  lifeless  silence.  Under  the  ceaseless, 
shifting  play  of  the  Northern  Lights,  or  lighted  only  by  the  wintry  brill- 
iance of  the  stars,  the  snow-clad  plains  stretch  out  into  dead  and  endless 
wastes  of  g-limmerinof  white. 

Then  the  great  fire-place  of  the  ranch  house  is  choked  with  blazing- 
logs,  and  at  night  we  have  to  sleep  under  so  many  blankets  that  the 
weight  is  fairly  oppressive.  Outside,  the  shaggy  ponies  huddle  together 
in  the  corral,  while  long  icicles  hang  from  their  lips,  and  the  hoar-frost 
whitens  the  hollow  backs  of  the  catde.  For  the  ranchman  the  winter  is 
occasionally  a  pleasant  holiday,  but  more  often  an  irksome  period  of 
enforced  rest  and  gloomy  foreboding. 


74 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


In  the  winter  there  is  much  less  work  than  at  any  other  season,  but 
what  there  is  involves  great  hardship  and  exposure.  Many  of  the  men 
are  discharged  after  the  summer  is  over,  and  during  much  of  the  cold 
weather  there  is  little  to  do  except  hunt  now  and  then,  and  in  very  bitter 
days  lounge  listlessly  about  the  house.  But  some  of  the  men  are  out  in 
the  line  camps,  and  the  ranchman  has  occasionally  to  make  the  round  of 
these ;  and  besides  that,  one  or  more  of  the  cowboys  who  are  at  home 
ought  to  be  out  every  day  when  the  cattle  have  become  weak,  so  as  to  pick 
up  and  drive  in  any  beast  that  will  otherwise  evidently  fail  to  get  through 
the  season — a  cow  that  has  had  an  unusually  early  calf  being  particularly 
apt  to  need  attention.  The  horses  shift  for  themselves  and  need  no  help. 
Often,  in  winter,  the  Indians  cut  down  the  cottonwood  trees  and  feed  the 
tops  to  their  ponies ;  but  this  is  not  done  to  keep  them  from  starving,  but 
only  to  keep  them  from  wandering  off  in  search  of  grass.  Besides,  the 
ponies  are  very  fond  of  the  bark  of  the  young  cottonwood  shoots,  and  it  is 
healthy  for  them. 

The  men  in  the  line  camps  lead  a  hard  life,  for  they  have  to  be  out  in 
every  kind  of  weather,  and  should  be  especially  active  and  watchful  during 
the  storms.  The  camps  are  established  along  some  line  which  it  is  pro- 
posed to  make  the  boundary  of  the  cattle's  drift  in  a  given  direction.  For 
example,  we  care  very  little  whether  our  cattle  wander  to  the  Yellow- 
stone ;  but  we  strongly  object  to  their  drifting  east  and  south-east 
towards  the  granger  country  and  the  Sioux  reservation,  especially  as 
when  they  drift  that  way  they  come  out  on  flat,  bare  plains  where  there 
is  danger  of  perishing.  Accordingly,  the  cowmen  along  the  Little 
Missouri  have  united  in  establishing  a  row  of  camps  to  the  east  of  the 
river,  along  the  line  where  the  broken  ground  meets  the  prairie.  The 
camps  are  usually  for  two  men  each,  and  some  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
apart ;  then,  in  the  morning,  its  two  men  start  out  in  opposite  ways,  each 
riding  till  he  meets  his  neighbor  of  the  next  camp  nearest  on  that  side, 
when  he  returns.  The  camp  itself  is  sometimes  merely  a  tent  pitched  in 
a  sheltered  coulee,  but  ought  to  be  either  made  of  logs  or  else  a  dug-out 
in  the  ground.  A  small  corral  and  horse-shed  is  near  by,  with  enough 
hay  for  the  ponies,  of  which  each  rider  has  two  or  three.  In  riding  over 
the  beat  each  man  drives  any  cattle  that  have  come  near  it  back  into  the 
Bad  Lands,  and  if  he  sees  by  the  hoof-marks  that  a  few  have  strayed  out 
over  the  line  very  recently,  he  will  follow  and  fetch  them  home.  They 
must  be  shoved  well  back  into  the  Bad  Lands  before  a  great  storm  strikes 
them ;  for  if  they  once  begin  to  drift  in  masses  before  an  icy  gale  it  is 
impossible  for  a  small  number  of  men  to  hold  them,  and  the  only  thing  is 


WINTER   WEATHER 


75 


to  let  them  go,  and  then  to  organize  an  expedition  to  follow  them  as  soon 
as  possible.  Line  riding  is  very  cold  work,  and  dangerous  too,  when  the 
men  have  to  be  out  in  a  blinding  snow-storm,  or  in  a  savage  blizzard  that 
takes  the  spirit  in  the  thermometer  far  down  below  zero.  In  the  worst 
storms  it  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  be  out. 

But  other  kinds  of  work  besides  line  riding  necessitate  exposure  to 
bitter  weather.  Once,  while  spending  a  few  days  over  on  Beaver  Creek 
hunting  up  a  lost  horse,  I  happened  to  meet  a  cowboy  who  was  out  on 
the  same  errand,  and  made  friends  with  him.  We  started  home  together 
across  the  open  prairies,  but  were  caught  in  a  very  heavy  snow-storm 
almost  immediately  after  leaving  the  ranch  where  we  had  spent  the  night. 
We  were  soon  completely  turned  round,  the  great  soft  flakes — for,  luckily, 
it  was  not  cold  —  almost  blinding  us,  and  we  had  to  travel  entirely  by 
compass.  After  feeling  our  way  along  for  eight  or  nine  hours,  we  finally 
got  down  into  the  broken  country  near  Sentinel  Butte  and  came  across 
an  empty  hut,  a  welcome  sight  to  men  as  cold,  hungry,  and  tired  as  we 
were.  In  this  hut  we  passed  the  night  very  comfortably,  picketing  our 
horses  in  a  sheltered  nook  near  by,  with  plenty  of  hay  from  an  old  stack. 
To  while  away  the  long  evening,  I  read  Hamlet  aloud,  from  a  little 
pocket  Shakspere.  The  cowboy,  a  Texan, — one  of  the  best  riders  I  have 
seen,  and  also  a  very  intelligent  as  well  as  a  thoroughly  good  fellow  in 
every  way, — was  greatly  interested  in  it  and  commented  most  shrewdly 
on  the  parts  he  liked,  especially  Polonius's  advice  to  Laertes,  which  he 
translated  into  more  homely  language  with  great  relish,  and  ended  with 
the  just  criticism  that  ''old  Shakspere  saveyed  human  natur' some " — 
savey  being  a  verb  presumably  adapted  into  the  limited  plains'  vocabulary 
from  the  Spanish. 

Even  for  those  who  do  not  have  to  look  up  stray  horses,  and  who  are 
not  forced  to  ride  the  line  day  in  and  day  out,  there  is  apt  to  be  some 
hardship  and  danger  in  being  abroad  during  the  bitter  weather;  yet  a 
ride  in  midwinter  is  certainly  fascinating.  The  great  white  country 
wrapped  in  the  powdery  snow-drift  seems  like  another  land ;  and  the 
familiar  landmarks  are  so  changed  that  a  man  must  be  careful  lest  he  lose 
his  way,  for  the  discomfort  of  a  night  in  the  open  during  such  weather  is 
very  great  indeed.  When  the  sun  is  out  the  glare  from  the  endless  white 
stretches  dazzles  the  eyes ;  and  if  the  gray  snow-clouds  hang  low  and 
only  let  a  pale,  wan  light  struggle  through,  the  lonely  wastes  become 
fairly  appalling  in  their  desolation.  For  hour  after  hour  a  man  may  go 
on  and  see  no  sign  of  life  except,  perhaps,  a  big  white  owl  sweeping 
noiselessly  by,  so  that  in  the  dark  it  looks  like  a  snow-wreath  ;  the  cold 


76 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING  TRAU. 


gradually  chilling  the  rider  to  the  bones,  as  he  draws  his  fur  cap  tight 
over  his  ears  and  muffles  his  face  in  the  huge  collar  of  his  wolf-skin  coat, 
and  making  the  shaggy  little  steed  drop  head  and  tail  as  it  picks  its  way 
over  the  frozen  soil.  There  are  few  moments  more  pleasant  than  the 
home-coming,  when,  in  the  gathering  darkness,  after  crossing  the  last 
chain  of  ice-covered  l)uttes,  or  after  coming  round  the  last  turn  in  the 
wind-swept  valley,  we  see,  through  the  leafless  trees,  or  across  the  frozen 
river,  the  red  gleam  of  the  firelight  as  it  shines  through  the  ranch  win- 
dows and  flickers  over  the  trunks  of  the  cottonwoods  outside,  warming  a 
man's  blood  by  the  mere  hint  of  the  warmth  awaiting  him  within. 

The  winter  scenery  is  especially  striking  in  the  Bad  Lands,  with  their 
queer  fantastic  formations.  Among  the  most  interesting  features  are  the 
burning  mines.  These  are  formed  by  the  coal  seams  that  get  on  fire. 
They  vary  greatly  in  size.  Some  send  up  smoke-columns  that  are  visible 
miles  away,  while  others  are  not  noticeable  a  few  rods  off.  The  old  ones 
gradually  burn  away,  while  new  ones  unexpectedly  break  out.  Thus,  last 
fall,  one  suddenly  appeared  but  half  a  mile  from  the  ranch  house.  We 
never  knew  it  was  there  until  one  cold  moonlight  night,  when  we  were 
riding  home,  we  rounded  the  corner  of  a  ravine  and  saw  in  our  path  a  tall 
white  column  of  smoke  rising  from  a  rift  in  the  snowy  crags  ahead  of  us. 
As  the  trail  was  over  perfectly  familiar  ground,  we  were  for  a  moment 
almost  as  startled  as  if  we  had  seen  a  ghost. 

The  burning  mines  are  uncanny  places,  anyhow.  A  strong  smell  of 
sulphur  hangs  round  them,  the  heated  earth  crumbles  and  cracks,  and 
through  the  lone  clefts  that  form  in  it  we  can  see  the  lurid  orlow  of  the 
subterranean  fires,  with  here  and  there  tongues  of  blue  or  cherry  colored 
flame  dancing  up  to  the  surface. 

The  winters  vary  greatly  in  severity  with  us.  During  some  seasons 
men  can  go  lightly  clad  even  in  January  and  February,  and  the  cattle 
hardly  suffer  at  all ;  during  others  there  will  be  spells  of  bitter  weather, 
accompanied  by  furious  blizzards,  which  render  it  impossible  for  days  and 
weeks  at  a  time  for  men  to  stir  out-of-doors  at  all,  save  at  the  risk  of 
their  lives.  Then  line  rider,  ranchman,  hunter,  and  teamster  alike  all 
have  to  keep  within  doors.  I  have  known  of  several  cases  of  men  freez- 
ing to  death  when  caught  in  shelterless  places  by  such  a  blizzard,  a 
strange  fact  being  that  in  about  half  of  them  the  doomed  man  had  evi- 
dently gone  mad  before  dying,  and  had  stripped  himself  of  most  of  his 
clothes,  the  body  when  found  being  nearly  naked.  On  our  ranch  we  have 
never  had  any  bad  accidents,  although  every  winter  some  of  us  get  more 
or  less  frost-bitten.      My  last  experience  in  this  line  was  while  returning 


WINTER    WEATHER 


n 


mf/'kiiiiiif 

BLLi lAiJiaBkii 


''  -^ t.h  liilL 


f\4l-  -^k*^" 


I     01. 


'■"^m^i 


'flsS'''''ilMi 


CATTLE     DRIFTING     BEFORE     THE     STORM. 


by  moonlight  from  a  successful  hunt  after  mountain  sheep.  The  ther- 
mometer was  26°  below  zero,  and  we  had  had  no  food  for  twelve  hours. 
I  became  numbed,  and  before  I  was  aware  of  it  had  frozen  my  face,  one 
foot,  both  knees,  and  one  hand.  Luckily,  I  reached  the  ranch  before 
serious  damagfe  was  done. 

About  once  every  six  or  seven  years  we  have  a  season  when  these 
storms  follow  one  another  almost  without  interval  throughout  the  winter 
months,  and  then  the  loss  among  the  stock  is  frightful.  One  such  win- 
ter occurred  in  1880-81.  This  was  when  there  were  very  few  ranchmen 
in  the  country.  The  grass  was  so  good  that  the  old  range  stock  escaped 
pretty  well ;  but  the  trail  herds  were  almost  destroyed.  The  next  severe 
winter  was  that  of  1886-87,  when  the  rush  of  incoming  herds  had  over- 
stocked the  ranges,  and  the  loss  was  in  consequence  fairly  appalling, 
especially  to  the  outfits  that  had  just  put  on  cattle. 

The  snow-fall  was  unprecedented,  both  for  its  depth  and  for  the  way  it 
lasted ;  and  it  was  this,  and  not  the  cold,  that  caused  the  loss.  About  the 
13 


-S  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTINCi-TRAIL 

middle  oi  November  the  storms  began.  Day  after  day  the  snow  came 
down,  thawing  and  then  freezing  and  piling  itself  higher  and  higher.  By 
January  the  drifts  had  filled  the  ravines  and  coulees  almost  level.  The  snow 
la\-  in  great  masses  on  the  plateaus  and  river  bottoms  ;  and  this  lasted 
until  the  end  of  Februar\-.  The  preceding  summer  we  had  been  visited  by 
a  prolonged  drcnight,  so  tliat  the  short,  scanty  grass  was  already  well 
cropped  down  ;  the  snow  covered  what  pasturage  there  was  to  the  depth 
of  several  feet,  and  the  cattle  could  not  get  at  it  at  all,  and  could  hardly 
move  round.  It  was  all  but  impossible  to  travel  on  horseback — except 
on  a  few  well-beaten  trails.  It  was  dangerous  to  attempt  to  penetrate  the 
Bad  Lands,  whose  shape  had  been  completely  altered  by  the  great  white 
mounds  and  drifts.  The  starving  cattle  died  by  scores  of  thousands 
before  their  helpless  owners'  eyes.  The  bulls,  the  cows  who  were  suck- 
ling calves,  or  who  were  heavy  with  calf,  the  weak  cattle  that  had  just  been 
driven  up  on  the  trail,  and  the  late  calves  suffered  most ;  the  old  range 
animals  did  better,  and  the  steers  best  of  all ;  but  the  best  was  bad 
enough.  Even  many  of  the  horses  died.  An  outfit  near  me  lost  half  its 
saddle-band,  the  animals  having  been  worked  so  hard  that  they  were  very 
thin  when  fall  came. 

In  the  thick  brush  the  stock  got  some  shelter  and  sustenance.  They 
gnawed  every  twig  and  bough  they  could  get  at.  They  browsed  the  bitter 
sag^e  brush  down  to  where  the  branches  were  the  thickness  of  a  man's 
finger.  When  near  a  ranch  they  crowded  into  the  outhouses  and  sheds 
to  die,  and  fences  had  to  be  built  around  the  windows  to  keep  the  wild- 
eyed,  desperate  beasts  from  thrusting  their  heads  through  the  glass  panes. 
In  most  cases  it  was  impossible  either  to  drive  them  to  the  haystacks  or  to 
haul  the  hay  out  to  them.  The  deer  even  were  so  weak  as  to  be  easily  run 
down  ;  and  on  one  or  two  of  the  plateaus  where  there  were  bands  of 
antelope,  these  wary  creatures  grew  so  numbed  and  feeble  that  they  could 
have  been  slaughtered  like  rabbits.  But  the  hunters  could  hardly  get  out, 
and  could  bring  home  neither  hide  nor  meat,  so  the  game  went  unharmed. 

The  way  in  which  the  cattle  got  through  the  winter  depended  largely 
on  the  different  localities  in  which  the  bands  were  caught  when  the  first 
heavy  snows  came,  A  group  of  animals  in  a  bare  valley,  without  under- 
brush and  with  steepish  sides,  would  all  die,  weak  and  strong  alike  ;  they 
could  get  no  food  and  no  shelter,  and  so  there  would  not  be  a  hoof  left. 
On  the  other  hand,  hundreds  wintered  on  the  great  thickly  wooded  bot- 
toms near  my  ranch  house  with  little  more  than  ordinary  loss,  though  a 
skinny  sorry-looking  crew  by  the  time  the  snow  melted.  In  intermediate 
places  the  strong  survived  and  the  weak  perished. 


WINTER    WEATHER 


79 


It  would  be  impossible  to  imagine  any  sight  more  dreary  and  melan- 
choly than  that  offered  by  the  ranges  when  the  snow  went  off  in  March. 
The  land  was  a  mere  barren  waste  ;  not  a  green  thing  could  be  seen  ;  the 
dead  grass  eaten  off  till  the  country  looked  as  if  it  had  been  shaved  with  a 
razor.  Occasionally  among  the  desolate  hills  a  rider  would  come  across  a 
band  of  gaunt,  hollow-flanked  cattle  feebly  cropping  the  sparse,  dry  past- 
urage, too  listless  to  move  out  of  the  way  ;  and  the  blackened  carcasses 
lay  in  the  sheltered  spots,  some  stretched  out,  others  in  as  natural  a  posi- 
tion as  if  the  animals  had  merely  lain  down  to  rest.  It  was  small  wonder 
that  cheerful  stockmen  were  rare  objects  that  spring. 

Our  only  comfort  was  that  we  did  not,  as  usual,  suffer  a  heavy  loss 
from  weak  cattle  getting  mired  down  in  the  springs  and  mud-holes  when 
the  ice  broke  up  —  for  all  the  weak  animals  were  dead  already.  The  truth 
is,  ours  is  a  primitive  industry,  and  we  suffer  the  reverses  as  well  as  enjoy 
the  successes  only  known  to  primitive  peoples.  A  hard  winter  is  to  us  in 
the  north  what  a  dry  summer  is  to  Texas  or  Australia — what  seasons  of 
famine  once  were  to  all  peoples.  We  still  live  in  an  iron  age  that  the  old 
civilized  world  has  long  passed  by.  The  men  of  the  border  reckon  upon 
stern  and  unending  struggles  with  their  iron-bound  surroundings ;  against 
the  grim  harshness  of  their  existence  they  set  the  strength  and  the  abound- 
ing vitality  that  come  with  it.  They  run  risks  to  life  and  limb  that  are 
unknown  to  the  dwellers  in  cities ;  and  what  the  men  freely  brave,  the 
beasts  that  they  own  must  also  sometimes  suffer. 


J^.Em'r  r'ur 


HORSE   OF    THE    CANADIAN    NORTH-WEST. 


FRONTIER  TYPES 


VI 


Frontier    Types 


iHE  old  race  of  Rocky  Mountain  hunters  and  trap- 
pers, of  reckless,  dauntless  Indian  fighters,  is  now  fast 
dying  out.  Yet  here  and  there  these  restless  wander- 
ers of  the  untrodden  wilderness  still  linger,  in  wooded 
fastnesses  so  inaccessible  that  the  miners  have  not  yet 
explored  them,  in  mountain  valleys  so  far  off  that  no 
ranchman  has  yet  driven  his  herds  thither.  To  this  day  many 
of  them  wear  the  fringed  tunic  or  hunting-shirt,  made  of  buck- 
skin or  homespun,  and  belted  in  at  the  waist, —  the  most  pic- 
turesque and  distinctively  national  dress  ever  worn  in  America. 
It  was  the  dress  in  which  Daniel  Boone  was  clad  when  he 
first  passed  through  the  trackless  forests  of  the  Alleghanies  and 
penetrated  into  the  heart  of  Kentucky,  to  enjoy  such  hunting 
as  no  man  of  his  race  had  ever  had  before;  it  was  the  dress 
worn  by  grim  old  Davy  Crockett  when  he  fell  at  the  Alamo. 
The  wild  soldiery  of  the  backwoods  wore  it  when  they  marched 
;^;^  to  victory  over  Ferguson  and  Pakenham,  at  King's  Moun- 
'j^f<^  tain  and  New  Orleans;  when  they  conquered  the  French 
A  MEXICAN  vAQUERo.  towus  of  the  HHnois;  and  when  they  won  at  the  cost  of  Red 
Eagle's  warriors  the  bloody  triumph  of  the  Horseshoe  Bend. 

These  old-time  hunters  have  been  the  forerunners  of  the  white  advance 
throughout  all  our  Western  land.  Soon  after  the  beginning  of  the  pres- 
ent century  they  boldly  struck  out  beyond  the  Mississippi,  steered  their 
way  across  the  flat  and  endless  seas  of  grass,  or  pushed  up  the  valleys 
of  the  great  lonely  rivers,  crossed  the  passes  that  wound  among  the  tow- 
ering peaks  of  the  Rockies,  toiled  over  the  melancholy  wastes  of  sage 
brush  and  alkali,  and  at  last,  breaking  through  the  gloomy  woodland  that 


8| 


82  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

belts  the  coast,  the\-  looked  out  on  the  heavin*'-  waves  of  the  grreatest  of  all 
the  oceans.  They  lived  for  months,  often  for  years,  among  the  Indians, 
now  as  friends,  now  as  foes,  warring,  hunting,  and  marrying  with  them; 
they  acted  as  guides  for  exploring  parties,  as  scouts  for  the  soldiers  who 
trom  time  co  time  were  sent  against  the  different  hostile  tribes.  At  long 
intervals  they  came  into  some  frontier  settlement  or  some  fur  company's 
fort,  posted  in  the  heart  ot  the  wilderness,  to  dispose  of  their  bales  of  furs, 
or  to  replenish  their  stock  of  ammunition  and  purchase  a  scanty  supply  of 
coarse  food  and  clothing. 

From  that  day  to  this  they  have  not  changed  their  way  of  life.  But 
there  are  not  man)  oi  them  left  now.  The  basin  of  the  Upper  Missouri 
was  their  last  stronghold,  beingr  the  last  oreat  huntingr- around  of  the 
Indians,  with  whom  the  white  trappers  were  always  fighting  and  bicker- 
ing, but  who  nevertheless  by  their  presence  protected  the  game  that  gave 
the  trappers  their  livelihood.  My  cattle  were  among  the  very  first  to  come 
into  the  land,  at  a  time  when  the  buffalo  and  beaver  still  abounded,  and 
then  the  old  hunters  were  common.  Many  a  time  I  have  hunted  with 
them,  spent  the  night  in  their  smoky  cabins,  or  had  them  as  guests  at  my 
ranch.  But  in  a  couple  of  years  after  the  inrush  of  the  cattle-men  the  last 
herds  of  the  buffalo  were  destroyed,  and  the  beaver  were  trapped  out  of 
all  the  plains'  streams.  Then  the  hunters  vanished  likewise,  save  that 
here  and  there  one  or  two  still  remain  in  some  nook  or  out-of-the-way 
corner.  The  others  wandered  off  restlessly  over  the  land, — some  to 
join  their  brethren  in  the  Cceur  d'Alene  or  the  northern  Rockies,  others 
to  the  coast  ranges  or  to  far-away  Alaska.  Moreover,  their  ranks  were 
soon  thinned  by  death,  and  the  places  of  the  dead  were  no  longer  taken 
by  new  recruits.  They  led  hard  lives,  and  the  unending  strain  of  their 
toilsome  and  dangerous  existence  shattered  even  such  iron  frames  as 
theirs.  They  were  killed  in  drunken  brawls,  or  in  nameless  fights  with 
roving  Indians  ;  they  died  by  one  of  the  thousand  accidents  incident  to 
the  business  of  their  lives, — by  flood  or  quicksand,  by  cold  or  starvation, 
by  the  stumble  of  a  horse  or  a  footslip  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff;  they  perished 
by  diseases  brought  on  by  terrible  privation,  and  aggravated  by  the  savage 
orgies  with  which  it  was  varied. 

Yet  there  was  not  only  much  that  was  attractive  in  their  wild,  free, 
reckless  lives,  but  there  was  also  very  much  good  about  the  men  them- 
selves. They  were — and  such  of  them  as  are  left  still  are — frank,  bold,  and 
self-reliant  to  a  degree.  They  fear  neither  man,  brute,  nor  element.  They 
are  generous  and  hospitable;  they  stand  loyally  by  their  friends,  and 
pursue  their  enemies  with  bitter  and  vindictive  hatred.      For  the  rest,  they 


FRONTIER    TYPES  g 


o 


differ  among  themselves  in  their  good  and  bad  points  even  more  mark- 
edly than  do  men  in  civilized  life,  for  out  on  the  border  virtue  and  wicked- 
ness alike  take  on  very  pronounced  colors.  A  man  who  in  civilization 
would  be  merely  a  backbiter  becomes  a  murderer  on  the  frontier ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  who  in  the  city  would  do  nothing  more  than  bid  you  a 
cheery  good-morning,  shares  his  last  bit  of  sun -jerked  venison  with  you 
when  threatened  by  starvation  in  the  wilderness.  One  hunter  may  be  a 
dark- browed,  evil-eyed  ruffian,  ready  to  kill  cattle  or  run  off  horses  with- 
out hesitation,  who  if  game  fails  will  at  once,  in  Western  phrase,  "take  to 
the  road," — that  is,  become  a  highwayman.  The  next  is  perhaps  a  quiet, 
kindly,  simple-hearted  man,  law-abiding,  modestly  unconscious  of  the 
worth  of  his  own  fearless  courage  and  iron  endurance,  always  faithful  to 
his  friends,  and  full  of  chivalric  and  tender  loyalty  to  women. 

The  hunter  is  the  arch-type  of  freedom.  His  well-being  rests  in  no 
man's  hands  save  his  own.  He  chops  down  and  hews  out  the  logs  for  his 
hut,  or  perhaps  makes  merely  a  rude  dug-out  in  the  side  of  a  hill,  with  a 
skin  roof,  and  skin  flaps  for  the  door.  He  buys  a  little  flour  and  salt,  and 
in  times  of  plenty  also  sugar  and  tea;  but  not  much,  for  it  must  all  be 
carried  hundreds  of  miles  on  the  backs  of  his  shaggy  pack-ponies.  In  one 
corner  of  the  hut,  a  bunk  covered  with  deer-skins  forms  his  bed;  a  kettle 
and  a  frying-pan  may  be  all  his  cooking-utensils.  When  he  can  get  no 
fresh  meat  he  falls  back  on  his  stock  of  jerked  venison,  dried  in  long  strips 
over  the  fire  or  in  the  sun. 

Most  of  the  trappers  are  Americans,  but  they  also  include  some 
Frenchmen  and  half-breeds.  Both  of  the  last,  if  on  the  plains,  occasion- 
ally make  use  of  queer  wooden  carts,  very  rude  in  shape,  with  stout 
wheels  that  make  a  most  doleful  squeaking.  In  old  times  they  all  had 
Indian  wives ;  but  nowadays  those  who  live  among  and  intermarry  with 
the  Indians  are  looked  down  upon  by  the  other  frontiersmen,  who  con- 
temptuously term  them  "squaw  men."  All  of  them  depend  upon  their 
rifles  only  for  food  and  for  self-defense,  and  make  their  living  by  trapping, 
peltries  being  very  valuable  and  yet  not  bulky.  They  are  good  game 
shots,  especially  the  pure  Americans ;  although,  of  course,  they  are  very 
boastful,  and  generally  stretch  the  truth  tremendously  in  telling  about 
their  own  marksmanship.  Still  they  often  do  very  remarkable  shooting, 
both  for  speed  and  accuracy.  One  of  their  feats,  that  I  never  could  learn 
to  copy,  is  to  make  excellent  shooting  after  nightfall.  Of  course  all  this 
applies  only  to  the  regular  hunters ;  not  to  the  numerous  pretenders 
who  hang  around  the  outskirts  of  the  towns  to  try  to  persuade  unwary 
strangers  to  take  them  for  guides. 

H 


84 


RANCH    LIFE   AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


On  one  of  nix-  trips  to  the  mountains  I  happened  to  come  across  sev- 
eral old-style  hunters  at  the  same  time.  Two  were  on  their  way  out  of  the 
woods,    after  having-  been   all  winter  and  spring  without  seeing  a  white 


^E-rrunCtUr, 


A     FRENCH-CANADIAN     TRAPPER. 


face.  They  had  been  lucky,  and  their  battered  pack-saddles  carried  bales 
of  valuable  furs  —  fisher,  sable,  otter,  mink,  beaver.  The  two  men,  though 
fast  friends  and  allies  for  many  years,  contrasted  oddly.  One  was  a  short, 
square-built,  good-humored  Kanuck,  always  laughing  and  talking,  who 
interlarded  his  conversation  with  a  singularly  original  mixture  of  the  most 
villainous  French  and  English  profanity.  His  partner  was  an  American, 
gray-eyed,  tall  and  straight  as  a  young  pine,  with  a  saturnine,  rather 
haughty  face,  and  proud  bearing.  He  spoke  very  little,  and  then  in  low 
tones,  never  using  an  oath ;  but  he  showed  now  and  then  a  most  unex- 
pected sense  of  dry  humor.  Both  were  images  of  bronzed  and  rugged 
strength.  Neither  had  the  slightest  touch  of  the  bully  in  his  nature;  they 
treated  others  with  the  respect  that  they  also  exacted  for  themselves.    They 


FRONTIER   TYPES  85 

bore  an  excellent  reputation  as  being  not  only  highly  skilled  in  woodcraft 
and  the  use  of  the  rifle,  but  also  men  of  tried  courage  and  strict  integrity, 
whose  word  could  be  always  implicitly  trusted. 

I  had  with  me  at  the  time  a  hunter  who,  though  their  equal  as  marks- 
man or  woodsman,  was  their  exact  opposite  morally.      He  was  a  pleasant 
companion  and  useful  assistant,  being  very  hard-working,  and  possessing  a 
temper  that  never  was  ruffled  by  anything.     He  was  also  a  good-looking  fel- 
low, with  honest  brown  eyes ;  but  he  no  more  knew  the  difference  between 
right  and  wrong  than  Adam  did  before  the  fall.      Had  he  been  at  all  con- 
scious of  his  wickedness,  or  had  he  possessed  the  least  sense  of  shame,  he 
would  have  been  unbearable  as  a  companion  ;  but  he  was  so  perfectly  pleas- 
ant and  easy,  so  good-humoredly  tolerant  of  virtue  in  others,  and  he  so 
wholly  lacked  even  a  glimmering  suspicion  that  murder,  theft,  and  adultery 
were  matters  of  anything  more  than  individual  taste,  that  I  actually  grew 
to  be  rather  fond  of  him.     He  never  related  any  of  his  past  deeds  of  wicked- 
ness as  matters  either  for  boastfulness  or  for  regret ;   they  were  simply 
repeated  incidentally  in  the  course  of  conversation.      Thus  once,  in  speak- 
ing of  the  profits  of  his  different  enterprises,  he  casually  mentioned  making 
a  good  deal  of  money  as  a  Government  scout  in  the  South-west  by  buying 
cartridges  from  some  negro  troops  at  a  cent  apiece  and  selling  them  to  the 
hostile  Apaches  for  a  dollar  each.      His  conduct  was  not  due  to  sympathy 
with  the  Indians,  for  it  appeared  that  later  on  he  had  taken  part  in  mas- 
sacring some   of  these  same   Apaches   when    they   were   prisoners.      He 
brushed  aside  as  irrelevant  one  or  two  questions  which  I  put  to  him  :  matters 
of  sentiment  were  not  to  be  mixed  up  with  a  purely  mercantile  specula- 
tion.   Another  time  we  were  talkino^  of  the  curious  angrles  bullets  sometimes 
fly  off  at  when  they  ricochet.    To  illustrate  the  matter  he  related  an  experi- 
ence which  I  shall  try  to  give  in  his  own  words.      "  One  time,  when  I  was 
keeping  a  saloon  down  in  New  Mexico,  there  was  a  man  owed  me  a  grudge. 
Well,  he  took  sick  of  the  small-pox,  and  the  doctor  told  him  he  'd  sure  die, 
and  he  said  if  that  was  so  he  reckoned  he  'd  kill  me  first.     So  he  come 
a-riding  in  with  his   gun    [in  the  West  a  revolver  is  generally  called  a 
gun]    and  begun   shooting ;  but   I   hit  him  first,   and  away  he   rode.      I 
started  to  get  on   my  horse  to  follow  him  ;   but  there  was  a  little  Irishman 
there  who  said  he  'd  never  killed  a  man,  and  he  begged  hard  for  me  to 
give  him  my  gun  and  let  him  go  after  the  other  man  and  finish  him.     So 
I  let  him  go ;   and  when  he  caught  up,  blamed  if  the  little  cuss  did  n't  get 
so  nervous  that  he  fired  off  into  the  ground,  and  the  darned  bullet  struck  a 
crowbar,  and  glanced  up,  and  hit  the  other  man  square  in  the  head  and 
killed  him  !     Now,  that  was  a  funny  shot,  was  n't  it  ?  " 


86  RANCH    LIFE   AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

The  fourth  member  of  our  party  round  the  camp-fire  that  night  was  a 
powerfully  built  trapper,  partly  French  by  blood,  who  wore  a  gayly  col- 
ored capote,  or  blanket-coat,  a  greasy  fur  cap,  and  moccasins.  He  had 
grizzled  hair,  and  a  certain  uneasy,  half-furtive  look  about  the  eyes. 
Once  or  twice  he  show^ed  a  curious  reluctance  about  allowing  a  man  to 
approach  him  suddenly  from  behind.  Altogether  his  actions  were  so  odd 
that  I  felt  some  curiosity  to  learn  his  history.  It  turned  out  that  he  had 
been  through  a  rather  uncanny  experience  the  winter  before.  He  and 
another  man  had  gone  into  a  remote  basin,  or  inclosed  valley,  in  the 
heart  oi  the  mountains,  where  game  was  very  plentiful ;  indeed,  it  was  so 
abundant  that  they  decided  to  pass  the  winter  there.  Accordingly  they 
put  up  a  log-cabin,  working  hard,  and  merely  killing  enough  meat  for 
their  immediate  use.  Just  as  it  was  finished  winter  set  in  with  tremen- 
dous sno\v-storms.  Going  out  to  hunt,  in  the  first  lull,  they  found,  to  their 
consternation,  that  every  head  of  game  had  left  the  valley.  Not  an  ani- 
mal was  to  be  found  therein ;  they  had  abandoned  it  for  their  winter 
haunts.  The  outlook  for  the  two  adventurers  was  appalling.  They  were 
afraid  of  trying  to  break  out  through  the  deep  snow-drifts,  and  starvation 
stared  them  in  the  face  if  they  staid.  The  man  I  met  had  his  dog  with 
him.  They  put  themselves  on  very  short  commons,  so  as  to  use  up  their 
flour  as  slowly  as  possible,  and  hunted  unweariedly,  but  saw  nothing. 
Soon  a  violent  quarrel  broke  out  between  them.  The  other  man,  a  fierce, 
sullen  fellow,  insisted  that  the  dog  should  be  killed,  but  the  owner  was 
exceedingly  attached  to  it,  and  refused.  For  a  couple  of  weeks  they  spoke 
no  word  to  each  other,  though  cooped  in  the  little  narrow  pen  of  logs. 
Then  one  night  the  owner  of  the  dog  was  wakened  by  the  animal  crying 
out;  the  other  man  had  tried  to  kill  it  with  his  knife,  but  failed.  The  pro- 
visions were  now  almost  exhausted,  and  the  two  men  were  glaring  at  each 
other  with  the  rage  of  maddened,  ravening  hunger.  Neither  dared  to  sleep, 
for  fear  that  the  other  would  kill  him.  Then  the  one  who  owned  the  dog 
at  last  spoke,  and  proposed  that,  to  give  each  a  chance  for  his  life,  they 
should  separate.  He  would  take  half  of  the  handful  of  flour  that  was  left 
and  start  off  to  try  to  get  home ;  the  other  should  stay  where  he  was;  and 
if  he  tried  to  follow  the  first,  he  was  warned  that  he  would  be  shot  without 
mercy.  A  like  fate  was  to  be  the  portion  of  the  wanderer  if  driven  to 
return  to  the  hut.  The  arrangement  was  agreed  to  and  the  two  men 
separated,  neither  daring  to  turn  his  back  while  they  were  within  rifle- 
shot of  each  other.  For  two  days  the  one  who  went  off  toiled  on  with 
weary  weakness  through  the  snow-drifts.  Late  on  the  second  afternoon, 
as  he  looked  back  from  a  high  ridge,  he  saw  in  the  far  distance  a  black 


FRONTIER    TYPES 


87 


SKINNER  &-OUNI\i. 


A    FIGHT    IN     THE     STREET. 


speck  against  the  snow,  coming  along  on  his  trail.  His  companion  was 
dogging  his  footsteps.  Immediately  he  followed  his  own  trail  back  a 
little  and  lay  in  ambush.  At  dusk  his  companion  came  stealthily  up, 
rifle  in  hand,  peering  cautiously  ahead,  his  drawn  face  showing  the 
starved,  eager  ferocity  of  a  wild  beast,  and  the  man  he  was  hunting  shot 
him  down  exactly  as  if  he  had  been  one.  Leaving  the  body  where  it  fell, 
the  wanderer  continued  his  journey,  the  dog  staggering  painfully  behind 
him.  The  next  evening  he  baked  his  last  cake  and  divided  it  with  the 
dog.  In  the  morning,  with  his  belt  drawn  still  tighter  round  his  skeleton 
body,  he  once  more  set  out,  with  apparently  only  a  few  hours  of  dull  misery 
between  him  and  death.  At  noon  he  crossed  the  track  of  a  huge  timber- 
wolf;  instantly  the  dog  gave  tongue,  and,  rallying  its  strength,  ran  along 
the  trail.  The  man  struggled  after.  At  last  his  strength  gave  out  and  he 
sat  down  to  die;  but  while  sitting  still,  slowly  stiffening  with  the  cold,  he 
heard  the  dog  baying  in  the  woods.  Shaking  off  his  mortal  numbness, 
he  crawled  towards  the  sound,  and  found  the  wolf  over  the  body  of  a  deer 
that  he  had  just  killed,  and  keeping  the  dog  from  it.  At  the  approach  of 
the  new  assailant  the  wolf  sullenly  drew  off,  and  man  and  dotr  tore  the  raw 
deer-flesh  with  hideous  eagerness.      It  made  them  very  sick  for  the  next 


88  RAXCH    LIFE   AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

twenty-ibur  hours  ;  but.  lying  by  the  carcass  for  two  or  three  days,  they 
recovered  strength.  A  week  afterwards  the  trapper  reached  a  miner's 
cabin  in  safety.  There  he  told  his  tale,  and  the  unknown  man  who 
alone  might  possibly  have  contradicted  it  lay  dead  in  the  depths  of  the 
wolf-haunted  forest. 

The  cowboys,  who  have  supplanted  these  old  hunters  and  trappers  as 
the  typical  men  of  the  plains,  themselves  lead  lives  that  are  almost  as  full 
oi  hardship  and  adventure.  The  unbearable  cold  of  winter  sometimes 
makes  the  small  outlying  camps  fairly  uninhabitable  if  fuel  runs  short ; 
and  if  the  line  riders  are  caught  in  a  blizzard  while  making  their  way  to 
the  home  ranch,  they  are  lucky  if  they  get  off  with  nothing  worse  than 
frozen  feet  and  faces. 

They  are,  in  the  main,  hard-working,  faithful  fellows,  but  of  course  are 
frequently  obliged  to  get  into  scrapes  through  no  fault  of  their  own. 
Once,  while  out  on  a  wagon  trip,  I  got  caught  while  camped  by  a  spring 
on  the  prairie,  through  my  horses  all  straying.  A  few  miles  off  was  the 
camp  of  two  cowboys,  who  were  riding  the  line  for  a  great  Southern 
cow-outfit.  I  did  not  even  know  their  names,  but  happening  to  pass  by 
them  I  told  of  my  loss,  and  the  day  after  they  turned  up  with  the  missing 
horses,  which  they  had  been  hunting  for  twenty- four  hours.  All  I  could 
do  in  return  was  to  give  them  some  reading  matter — something  for  which 
the  men  in  these  lonely  camps  are  always  grateful.  Afterwards  I  spent  a 
day  or  two  with  my  new  friends,  and  we  became  quite  intimate.  They 
were  Texans.  Both  were  quiet,  clean-cut,  pleasant-spoken  young  fellows, 
who  did  not  even  swear,  except  under  great  provocation, —  and  there  can 
be  no  greater  provocation  than  is  given  by  a  "  mean  "  horse  or  a  refractory 
steer.  Yet,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  that  they  were,  in  a  certain  sense, 
fugitives  from  justice.  They  were  complaining  of  the  extreme  severity  of 
the  winter  weather,  and  mentioned  their  longing  to  go  back  to  the  South. 
The  reason  they  could  not  was  that  the  summer  before  they  had  taken 
part  in  a  small  civil  war  in  one  of  the  wilder  counties  of  New  Mexico.  It 
had  originated  in  a  quarrel  between  two  great  ranches  over  their  respect- 
ive water  rights  and  range  rights, —  a  quarrel  of  a  kind  rife  among  pastoral 
peoples  since  the  days  when  the  herdsmen  of  Lot  and  Abraham  strove 
together  for  the  grazing  lands  round  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan.  There 
were  collisions  between  bands  of  armed  cowboys,  the  cattle  were  harried 
from  the  springs,  outlying  camps  were  burned  down,  and  the  sons  of  the 
rival  owners  fought  each  other  to  the  death  with  bowie-knife  and  revol- 
ver when  they  met  at  the  drinking-booths  of  the  squalid  towns.  Soon 
the  smoldering  jealousy  which  is  ever  existent  between  the  Americans 
and  Mexicans  of  the  frontier  was  aroused,  and  when  the  original  cause 


FRONTIER    TYPES 


89 


of  quarrel  was  adjusted,  a  fierce  race  struggle  took  its  place.  It  was  soon 
quelled  by  the  arrival  of  a  strong  sheriff's  posse  and  the  threat  of  inter- 
ference by  the  regular  troops,  but  not  until  after  a  couple  of  affrays,  each 
attended  with  bloodshed.  In  one  of  these  the  American  cowboys  of  a 
certain  range,  after  a  brisk  fight,  drove  out  the  Mexican  vaqiicros  from 
among  them.  In  the  other,  to  avenge  the  murder  of  one  of  their  num- 
ber, the  cowboys  gathered  from  the  country  round  about  and  fairly  stormed 
the  ''Greaser"  (that  is,  Mexican)  village  where  the  murder  had  been 
committed,  killing  four  of  the  inhabitants.  My  two  friends  had  borne  a 
part  in  this  last  affair.  They  were  careful  to  give  a  rather  cloudy  account 
of  the  details,  but  I  gathered  that  one  of  them  was  "wanted"  as  a  par- 
ticipant, and  the  other  as  a  witness. 

However,  they  were  both  good  fellows,  and  probably  their  conduct  was 
justifiable,  at  least  according  to  the  rather  fitful  lights  of  the  border.  Sitting 
up  late  with  them,  around  the  sputtering  fire,  they  became  quite  confidential. 
At  first  our  conversation  touched  only  the  usual  monotonous  round  of  sub- 
jects worn  threadbare  in  every  cow-camp.  A  bunch  of  steers  had  been 
seen  traveling  over  the  scoria  buttes  to  the  head  of  Elk  Creek  ;  they  were 
mostly  Texan  doughgies  (a  name  I  have  never  seen  written  ;  it  applies  to 
young  immigrant  cattle),  but  there  were  some  of  the  Hash-Knife  four-year- 
olds  among  them.  A  stray  horse  with  a  blurred  brand  on  the  left  hip  had 
just  joined  the  bunch  of  saddle-ponies.  The  red  F.  V.  cow,  one  of  whose 
legs  had  been  badly  bitten  by  a  wolf,  had  got  mired  down  in  an  alkali  spring, 
and  when  hauled  out  had  charged  upon  her  rescuer  so  viciously  that  he 
barely  escaped.  The  old  mule,  Sawback,  was  getting  over  the  effects  of 
the  rattlesnake  bite.  The  river  was  going  down,  but  the  fords  were  still 
bad,  and  the  quicksand  at  the  Custer  Trail  crossing  had  worked  along  so 
that  wagons  had  to  be  taken  over  opposite  the  blasted  cottonwood.  One 
of  the  men  had  seen  a  Three-Seven- B  rider  who  had  just  left  the  Green 
River  round-up,  and  who  brought  news  that  they  had  found  some  cattle  on 
the  reservation,  and  were  now  holding  about  twelve  hundred  head  on  the 
big  brushy  bottom  below  Rainy  Butte.  Bronco  Jim,  our  local  flash  rider, 
had  tried  to  ride  the  big,  bald-faced  sorrel  belonging  to  the  Oregon  horse- 
outfit,  and  had  been  bucked  off  and  his  face  smashed  in.  This  piece  of 
information  of  course  drew  forth  much  condemnation  of  the  unfortunate 
Jim's  equestrian  skill.  It  was  at  once  agreed  that  he  "wasn't  the  sure- 
enough  bronco-buster  he  thought  himself"  and  he  was  compared  very 
unfavorably  to  various  heroes  of  the  quirt  and  spurs  who  lived  in  Texas  and 
Colorado;  for  the  best  rider,  like  the  best  hunter,  is  invariably  either  dead 
or  else  a  resident  of  some  other  district. 

These  topics  having  been  exhausted,  we  discussed  the  rumor  that  the 


90 


RANCH    LIFE    AND  THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


vigilantes  had  given  notice  to  quit  to  two  men  who  had  just  built  a  shack 
at  the  head  of  the  Little  Dry,  and  whose  horses  included  a  suspiciously 
large  number  of  different  brands,  most  of  them  blurred.  Then  our  con- 
versation became  more  personal,  and  they  asked  if  I  would  take  some 
letters  to  post  for  them.  Of  course  I  said  yes,  and  two  letters — evidently 
the  product  of  severe  manual  labor — were  produced.  Each  was  directed 
to  a  girl ;  and  my  companions,  now  very  friendly,  told  me  that  they  both 
had  sweethearts,  and  for  the  next  hour  I  listened  to  a  full  account  of  their 
charms  and  virtues. 

But  it  is  not  often  that  plainsmen  talk  so  freely.  They  are  rather 
reserved,  especially  to  strangers ;  and  are  certain  to  look  with  dislike  on 
any  man  who,  when  they  first  meet  him,  talks  a  great  deal.  It  is  always  a 
good  plan,  if  visiting  a  strange  camp  or  ranch,  to  be  as  silent  as  possible. 

Another  time,  at  a  ranch  not  far  from  my  own,  I  found  among  the  cow- 
boys gathered  for  the  round-up  two  Bible-reading  Methodists.  They 
were  as  strait-laced  as  any  of  their  kind,  but  did  not  obtrude  their 
opinions  on  any  one  else,  and  were  first-class  workers,  so  that  they  had  no 
trouble  with  the  other  men.  Associated  with  them  were  two  or  three 
blear-eyed,  slit-mouthed  ruffians,  who  were  as  loose  of  tongue  as  of  life. 

Generally  some  form  of  stable  government  is  provided  for  the  counties 
as  soon  as  their  population  has  become  at  all  fixed,  the  frontiersmen 
showing  their  national  aptitude  for  organization.  Then  lawlessness  is  put 
down  pretty  effectively.  For  example,  as  soon  as  we  organized  the 
government  of  Medora  —  an  excessively  unattractive  little  hamlet,  the 
county  seat  of  our  huge,  scantily  settled  county  —  we  elected  some  good 
officers,  built  a  log  jail,  prohibited  all  shooting  in  the  streets,  and 
enforced  the  prohibition,  etc.,  etc. 

Up  to  that  time  there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  lawlessness  of  one  kind 
or  another,  only  checked  by  an  occasional  piece  of  individual  retribution 
or  by  a  sporadic  outburst  of  vigilance  committee  work.  In  such  a  soci- 
ety the  desperadoes  of  every  grade  flourish.  Many  are  merely  ordinary 
rogues  and  swindlers,  who  rob  and  cheat  on  occasion,  but  are  dangerous 
only  when  led  by  some  villain  of  real  intellectual  power.  The  gambler, 
with  hawk  eyes  and  lissome  fingers,  is  scarcely  classed  as  a  criminal ; 
indeed,  he  may  be  a  very  public-spirited  citizen.  But  as  his  trade  is  so 
often  plied  in  saloons,  and  as  even  if,  as  sometimes  happens,  he  does 
not  cheat,  many  of  his  opponents  are  certain  to  attempt  to  do  so,  he 
is  of  necessity  obliged  to  be  skillful  and  ready  with  his  weapon,  and  gam- 
bling rows  are  very  common.  Cowboys  lose  much  of  their  money  to 
gamblers  ;   it  is  with  them  hard  come  and  light  go,  for  they  exchange  the 


FRONTIER   TYPES 


91 


wages  of  six  months'  grinding  toil  and  lonely  peril  for  three  days'  whoop- 
ing carousal,  spending  their  money  on  poisonous  whisky  or  losing  it  over 
greasy  cards  in  the  vile  dance-houses.  As  already  explained,  they  are  in 
the  main  good  men  ;  and  the  disturbance  they  cause  in  a  town  is  done 
from  sheer  rough  light-heartedness.  They  shoot  off  boot-heels  or  tall  hats 
occasionally,  or  make  some  obnoxious  butt  "  dance  "  by  shooting  round  his 
feet ;  but  they  rarely  meddle  in  this  way  with  men  who  have  not  themselves 


MAKING    A    TF:NDERF00T     DANCE. 


played  the  fool.  A  fight  in  the  streets  is  almost  always  a  duel  between 
two  men  who  bear  each  other  malice  ;  it  is  only  in  a  general  melee  in  a 
saloon  that  outsiders  often  get  hurt,  and  then  it  is  their  own  fault,  for  they 
have  no  business  to  be  there.  One  evening  at  Medora  a  cowboy  spurred 
his  horse  up  the  steps  of  a  rickety  "hotel  "  piazza  into  the  bar-room,  where 
he  began  firing  at  the  clock,  the  decanters,  etc.,  the  bartender  meanwhile 
taking  one  shot  at  him,  which  missed.  When  he  had  emptied  his  revolver 
he  threw  down  a  roll  of  bank-notes  on  the  counter,  to  pay  for  the  damage 
he  had  done,  and  galloped  his  horse  out  through  the  door,  disappearing  in 
the  darkness  with  loud  yells  to  a  rattling  accompaniment  of  pistol  shots 
interchanged  between  himself  and  some  passer-by  who  apparently  began 
firing  out  of  pure  desire  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  occasion, — for  it  was 
the  night  of  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  all  the  country  round  about  had  come 
into  town  for  a  spree. 
15 


92 


RAN'CH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-'J'RAIL 


-^R^rTunJ^fDi^ 


PAINTING     THE     TOWN     KED. 


All  this  is  mere  horse-play  ;  it  is  the  cowboy's  method  of  "painting  the 
town  red,"  as  an  interlude  in  his  harsh,  monotonous  life.  Of  course  there 
are  plenty  of  hard  characters  among  cowboys,  but  no  more  than  among 
lumbermen  and  the  like ;  only  the  cowboys  are  so  ready  with  their 
weapons  that  a  bully  in  one  of  their  camps  is  apt  to  be  a  murderer  instead 
of  merely  a  bruiser.  Often,  moreover,  on  a  long  trail,  or  in  a  far-off  camp, 
where  the  men  are  for  many  months  alone,  feuds  spring  up  that  are  in  the 
end  sure  to  be  slaked  in  blood.  As  a  rule,  however,  cowboys  who 
become  desperadoes  soon  perforce  drop  their  original  business,  and  are  no 
longer  employed  on  ranches,  unless  in  counties  or  territories  where  there  is 
very  little  heed  paid  to  the  law,  and  where,  in  consequence,  a  cattle-owner 
needs  a  certain  number  of  hired  bravos.  Until  within  two  or  three  years 
this  was  the  case  in  parts  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  where  land  claims 
were  "jumped"  and  cattle  stolen  all  the  while,  one  effect  being  to  insure 


FRONTIER    TYPES  93 

high  wages  to  every  individual  who  combined  murderous  proclivities  with 
skill  in  the  use  of  the  six-shooter. 

Even  in  much  more  quiet  regions  different  outfits  vary  greatly  as 
regards  the  character  of  their  employes :  I  know  one  or  two  where  the 
men  are  good  ropers  and  riders,  but  a  gambling,  brawling,  hard-drinking 
set,  always  shooting  each  other  or  strangers.  Generally,  in  such  a  case,  the 
boss  is  himself  as  objectionable  as  his  men  ;  he  is  one  of  those  who  have 
risen  by  unblushing  rascality,  and  is  always  sharply  watched  by  his  neigh- 
bors, because  he  is  sure  to  try  to  shift  calves  on  to  his  own  cows,  to 
brand  any  blurred  animal  with  his  own  mark,  and  perhaps  to  attempt 
the  alteration  of  perfectly  plain  brands.  The  last  operation,  however,  has 
become  very  risky  since  the  organization  of  the  cattle  country,  and  the 
appointment  of  trained  brand-readers  as  inspectors.  These  inspectors 
examine  the  hide  of  every  animal  slain,  sold,  or  driven  off,  and  it  is  won- 
derful to  see  how  quickly  one  of  them  will  detect  any  signs  of  a  brand 
having  been  tampered  with.  Now  there  is,  in  consequence,  very  little  of 
this  kind  of  dishonesty ;  whereas  formerly  herds  were  occasionally  stolen 
almost  bodily. 

Claim-jumpers  are,  as  a  rule,  merely  blackmailers.  Sometimes  they 
will  by  threats  drive  an  ignorant  foreigner  from  his  claim,  but  never  an  old 
frontiersman.  They  delight  to  squat  down  beside  ranchmen  who  are 
themselves  trying  to  keep  land  to  which  they  are  not  entitled,  and  who 
therefore  know  that  their  only  hope  is  to  bribe  or  to  bully  the  intruder. 

Cattle-thieves,  for  the  reason  given  above,  are  not  common,  although 
there  are  plenty  of  vicious,  shiftless  men  who  will  kill  a  cow  or  a  steer  for 
the  meat  in  winter,  if  they  get  a  chance. 

Horse-thieves,  however,  are  always  numerous  and  formidable  on  the 
frontier;  though  in  our  own  country  they  have  been  summarily  thinned 
out  of  late  years.  It  is  the  fashion  to  laugh  at  the  severity  with  which 
horse-stealing  is  punished  on  the  border,  but  the  reasons  are  evident. 
Horses  are  the  most  valuable  property  of  the  frontiersman,  whether  cow- 
boy, hunter,  or  settler,  and  are  often  absolutely  essential  to  his  well-being, 
and  even  to  his  life.  They  are  always  marketable,  and  they  are  very  easily 
stolen,  for  they  carry  themselves  off,  instead  of  having  to  be  carried. 
Horse-stealing  is  thus  a  most  tempting  business,  especially  to  the  more 
reckless  ruffians,  and  it  is  always  followed  by  armed  men ;  and  they  can 
only  be  kept  in  check  by  ruthless  severity.  Frequently  they  band 
together  with  the  road  agents  (highwaymen)  and  other  desperadoes  into 
secret  organizations,  which  control  and  terrorize  a  district  until  overthrown 
by  force.     After  the  civil  war  a  great  many  guerrillas,  notably  from  Ar- 


g^  RANCH    LIFE   AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

kansas  and  Missouri,  went  out  to  the  plains,  often  drifting  northward. 
They  took  naturally  to  horse-stealing  and  kindred  pursuits.  Since  I  have 
been  in  the  northern  cattle  country  1  have  known  of  half  a  dozen  former 
members  of  Ouantrell's  gang  being  hung  or  shot. 

The  professional  man-killers,  or  "bad  men,"  may  be  horse-thieves  or 
highwaymen,  but  more  often  are  neither  one  nor  the  other.  Some  of 
them,  like  some  of  the  Texan  cowboys,  become  very  expert  in  the  use  of 
the  revolver,  their  invariable  standby ;  but  in  the  open  a  cool  man  with  a 
rifle  is  alwa)  s  an  overmatch  for  one  of  them,  unless  at  very  close  quarters, 
on  account  of  the  superiority  of  his  weapon.  Some  of  the  "  bad  men  "  are 
quiet,  good  fellows,  who  have  been  driven  into  their  career  by  accident. 
One  of  them  has  perhaps  at  some  time  killed  a  man  in  self-defense;  he 
acquires  some  reputation,  and  the  neighboring  bullies  get  to  look  on  him 
as  a  rival  whom  it  would  be  an  honor  to  slay ;  so  that  from  that  time  on 
he  must  be  ever  on  the  watch,  must  learn  to  draw  quick  and  shoot  straight, 
—  the  former  being  even  more  important  than  the  latter, — and  probably 
has  to  take  life  after  life  in  order  to  save  his  own. 

Some  of  these  men  are  brave  only  because  of  their  confidence  in  their 
own  skill  and  strength ;  once  convince  them  that  they  are  overmatched 
and  they  turn  into  abject  cowards.  Others  have  nerves  of  steel  and  will 
face  any  odds,  or  certain  death  itself,  without  flinching  a  hand's  breadth. 
I  was  once  staying  in  a  town  where  a  desperately  plucky  fight  took  place. 
A  noted  desperado,  an  Arkansas  man,  had  become  involved  in  a  quarrel 
wuth  two  others  of  the  same  ilk,  both  Irishmen  and  partners.  For  several 
days  all  three  lurked  about  the  saloon-infested  streets  of  the  roaring 
little  board-and-canvas  "city,"  each  trying  to  get  "the  drop," — that  is, 
the  first  shot, —  the  other  inhabitants  looking  forward  to  the  fight  with 
pleased  curiosity,  no  one  dreaming  of  interfering.  At  last  one  of  the 
partners  got  a  chance  at  his  opponent  as  the  latter  was  walking  into  a 
gambling  hell,  and  broke  his  back  near  the  hips ;  yet  the  crippled, 
mortally  wounded  man  twisted  around  as  he  fell  and  shot  his  slayer  dead. 
Then,  know^ing  that  he  had  but  a  few  moments  to  live,  and  expecting  that 
his  other  foe  would  run  up  on  hearing  the  shooting,  he  dragged  himself  by 
his  arms  out  into  the  street ;  immediately  afterwards,  as  he  anticipated,  the 
second  partner  appeared,  and  was  killed  on  the  spot.  The  victor  did  not 
live  twenty  minutes.  As  in  most  of  these  encounters,  all  of  the  men  who 
w^ere  killed  deserved  their  fate.  In  my  own  not  very  extensive  experience 
I  can  recall  but  one  man  killed  in  these  fights  whose  death  was  regretted, 
and  he  was  slain  by  a  European.  Generally  every  one  is  heartily  glad  to 
hear  of  the  death  of  either  of  the  contestants,  and  the  only  regret  is  that 
the  other  survives. 


FRONTIER   TYPES 


95 


One  curious  shooting  scrape  that  took  place  in  Medora  was  worthy  of 
being  chronicled  by  Bret  Harte.  It  occurred  in  the  summer  of  1884,  I 
believe,  but  it  may  have  been  the  year  following,  I  did  not  see  the 
actual   occurrence,  but   I    saw  both   men   immediately  afterwards;    and    I 


A    ROW     IN     A     CA'fl  I   I, 


heard  the  shooting,  which  took  place  in  a  saloon  on  the  bank,  while  I  was 
swimming  my  horse  across  the  river,  holding  my  rifle  up  so  as  not  to  wet 
it.  I  will  not  give  their  full  names,  as  I  am  not  certain  what  has  become  of 
them  ;  though  I  was  told  that  one  had  since  been  either  put  in  jail  or  hung, 
I  forget  which.  One  of  them  was  a  saloon-keeper,  familiarly  called  Welshy. 
The  other  man,  Hay,  had  been  bickering  with  him  for  some  time.  One  day 
Hay,  who  had  been  defeated  in  a  wrestling  match  by  one  of  my  own  boys, 
and  was  out  of  temper,  entered  the  other's  saloon,  and  became  very 
abusive.  The  quarrel  grew  more  and  more  violent,  and  suddenly  Welshy 
whipped  out  his  revolver  and  blazed  away  at  Hay.  The  latter  staggered 
slightly,  shook  himself,  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  gaz'c  back  to  his  zvotild- 


96 


RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


be  s/aycr  tJic  ball,  saying',  "  Here,  man,  here  's  the  bullet,"  It  had  glanced 
along-  his  breast-bone,  gone  into  the  body,  and  come  out  at  the  point  of 
the  shoulder,  when,  being  spent,  it  dropped  down  the  sleeve  into  his  hand. 
Next  day  the  local  paper,  which  rejoiced  in  the  title  of  "The  Bad 
Lands  Cowboy,"  chronicled  the  event  in  the  usual  vague  way  as  an 
"unfortunate  occurrence"  between  "two  of  our  most  esteemed  fellow- 
citizens."  The  editor  was  a  good  fellow,  a  college  graduate,  and  a  first- 
class  base-ball  player,  who  always  stood  stoutly  up  against  any  corrupt 
dealing  ;  but,  like  all  other  editors  in  small  Western  towns,  he  was  intimate 
with  both  combatants  in  almost  every  fight. 

The  winter  after  this  occurrence  I  was  away,  and  on  my  return  began 
asking  my  foreman  —  a  particular  crony  of  mine  —  about  the  fates  of  my 
various  friends.  Among  others  I  inquired  after  a  traveling  preacher  who 
had  come  to  our  neighborhood ;  a  good  man,  but  irascible.  After  a  mo- 
ment's pause  a  gleam  of  remembrance  came  into  my  informant's  eye:  "Oh, 
the  parson  !  Well — he  beat  a  man  over  the  head  with  an  ax,  and  they 
put  him  in  jail !  "  It  certainly  seemed  a  rather  summary  method  of  re- 
pressing a  refractory  parishioner.  Another  acquaintance  had  shared  a  like 
doom.  "  He  started  to  go  out  of  the  country,  but  they  ketched  him  at 
Bismarck  and  put  him  in  jail" — apparently  on  general  principles,  for  I  did 
not  hear  of  his  having  committed  any  specific  crime.  My  foreman  some- 
times developed  his  own  theories  of  propriety.  I  remember  his  objecting 
strenuously  to  a  proposal  to  lynch  a  certain  French-Canadian  who  had 
lived  in  his  own  cabin,  back  from  the  river,  ever  since  the  whites  came  into 
the  land,  but  wdio  was  suspected  of  being  a  horse-thief.  His  chief  point 
against  the  proposal  was,  not  that  the  man  was  innocent,  but  that  "it  did 
n't  seem  anyways  right  to  hang  a  man  who  had  been  so  long  in  the 
country." 

Sometimes  we  had  a  comic  row.  There  was  one  huge  man  from  Mis- 
souri called  "The  Pike,"  wdio  had  been  the  keeper  of  a  wood-yard  for 
steamboats  on  the  Upper  Missouri.  Like  most  of  his  class  he  was  a 
hard  case,  and,  though  pleasant  enough  when  sober,  always  insisted  on 
fighting  when  drunk.  One  day,  when  on  a  spree,  he  announced  his 
intention  of  thrashing  the  entire  population  of  Medora  seriatim,  and 
began  to  make  his  promise  good  with  great  vigor  and  praiseworthy 
impartiality.  He  was  victorious  over  the  first  two  or  three  eminent  citi- 
zens whom  he  encountered,  and  then  tackled  a  gentleman  known  as  "Cold 
Turkey  Bill."  Under  ordinary  circumstances  Cold  Turkey,  though  an 
able-bodied  man.  was  no  match  for  The  Pike ;  but  the  latter  was  still 
rather  drunk,  and  moreover  was  wearied  by  his  previous  combats.  So 
Cold  Turkey  got  him  down,  lay  on  him.  choked  him  by  the  throat  with 


FRONTIER   TYPES  97 

one  hand,  and  began  pounding  his  face  widi  a  triangular  rock  held  in  the 
other.  To  the  onlookers  the  fate  of  the  battle  seemed  decided ;  but  Cold 
Turkey  better  appreciated  the  endurance  of  his  adversary,  and  it  soon 
appeared  that  he  sympathized  with  the  traditional  hunter  who,  having 
caught  a  wildcat,  earnestly  besought  a  comrade  to  help  him  let  it  go. 
While  still  pounding  vigorously  he  raised  an  agonized  wail :  "  Help  me 
off,  fellows,  for  the  Lord's  sake;  he  's  tiring  me  out!"  There  was  no 
resisting  so  plaintive  an  appeal,  and  the  bystanders  at  once  abandoned 
their  attitude  of  neutrality  for  one  of  armed  intervention. 

I  have  always  been  treated  with  the  utmost  courtesy  by  all  cowboys, 
whether  on  the  round-up  or  in  camp;  and  the  few  real  desperadoes  I 
have  seen  were  also  perfectly  polite.  Indeed,  I  never  was  shot  at  mali- 
ciously but  once.  This  was  on  an  occasion  when  I  had  to  pass  the  night 
in  a  little  frontier  hotel  where  the  bar-room  occupied  the  whole  lower 
floor,  and  was  in  consequence  the  place  where  every  one,  drunk  or  sober, 
had  to  sit.  My  assailant  was  neither  a  cowboy  nor  a  bona  fide  "bad 
man,"  but  a  broad-hatted  ruffian  of  cheap  and  commonplace  type,  who 
had  for  the  moment  terrorized  the  other  men  in  the  bar-room,  these  being 
mostly  sheep- herders  and  small  grangers.  The  fact  that  I  wore  glasses, 
together  with  my  evident  desire  to  avoid  a  fight,  apparently  gave  him  the 
impression — a  mistaken  one — that  I  would  not  resent  an  injury. 

The  first  deadly  affray  that  took  place  in  our  town,  after  the  cattle-men 
came  in  and  regular  settlement  began,  was  between  a  Scotchman  and  a 
Minnesota  man,  the  latter  being  one  of  the  small  stockmen.  Both  had 
"  shooting"  records,  and  each  was  a  man  with  a  varied  past.  The  Scotch- 
man, a  noted  bully,  was  the  more  daring  of  the  two,  but  he  was  much  too 
hot-headed  and  overbearing  to  be  a  match  for  his  gray-eyed,  hard-featured 
foe.  After  a  furious  quarrel  and  threats  of  violence,  the  Scotchman 
mounted  his  horse,  and,  rifle  in  hand,  rode  to  the  door  of  the  mud  ranch, 
perched  on  the  brink  of  the  river-bluff,  where  the  American  lived,  and  was 
instantly  shot  down  by  the  latter  from  behind  a  corner  of  the  building. 

Later  on  I  once  opened  a  cowboy  ball  with  the  wife  of  the  victor  in  this 
contest,  the  husband  himself  dancing  opposite.  It  was  the  lanciers,  and 
he  knew  all  the  steps  far  better  than  I  did.  He  could  have  danced 
a  minuet  very  well  with  a  little  practice.  The  scene  reminded  one  of  the 
ball  where  Bret  Harte's  heroine  "danced  down  the  middle  with  the  man 
who  shot  Sandy  Magee." 

But  though  there  were  plenty  of  men  present  each  of  whom  had  shot 
his  luckless  Sandy  Magee,  yet  there  was  no  Lily  of  Poverty  Flat.  There 
is  an  old  and  true  border  saying  that  "  the  frontier  is  hard  on  women  and 
cattle."     There  are  some  striking  exceptions  ;  but.  as  a  rule,  the  grindmg 


98 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


I.J.         V-    »'-     »V     1 1 


THE    MAGIC    OF    THE    DROP. 


toil  and  hardship  of  a  Hfe  passed  in  the  wilderness,  or  on  its  outskirts,  drive 
the  beauty  and  bloom  from  a  woman's  face  long-  before  her  youth  has  left 
her.  By  the  time  she  is  a  mother  she  is  sinewy  and  angular,  with  thin, 
compressed  lips  and  furrowed,  sallow  brow.  But  she  has  a  hundred 
qualities  that  atone  for  the  grace  she  lacks.  She  is  a  good  mother  and  a 
hard-working  housewife,  always  putting  things  to  rights,  washing  and 
cooking  for  her  stalwart  spouse  and  offspring.  She  is  faithful  to  her 
husband,  and,  like  the  true  American  that  she  is,  exacts  faithfulness  in 
return.  Peril  cannot  daunt  her,  nor  hardship  and  poverty  appall  her. 
Whether  on  the  mountains  in  a  log  hut  chinked  with  moss,  in  a  sod  or 
adobe  hovel  on  the  desolate  prairie,  or  in  a  mere  temporary  camp,  where 
the  white-topped  wagons  have  been  drawn  up  in  a  protection-giving  circle 
near  some  spring,  she  is  equally  at  home.  Clad  in  a  dingy  gown  and  a 
hideous  sun-bonnet  she  goes  bravely  about  her  work,  resolute,  silent, 
uncomplaining.  The  children  grow  up  pretty  much  as  fate  dictates.  Even 
when  very  small  they  seem  well  able  to  protect  themselves.     The  wife  of 


FRONTIER   TYPES  gg 

one  of  my  teamsters,  who  lived  in  a  small  outlying  camp,  used  to  keep  the 
youngest  and  most  troublesome  members  of  her  family  out  of  mischief  by 
the  simple  expedient  of  picketing  them  out,  each  child  being  tied  by  the 
leg,  with  a  long  leather  string,  to  a  stake  driven  into  the  ground,  so  that 
it  could  neither  get  at  another  child  nor  at  anything  breakable. 

The  best  buckskin  maker  I  ever  met  was,  if  not  a  typical  frontiers- 
woman,  at  least  a  woman  who  could  not  have  reached  her  full  development 
save  on  the  border.  She  made  first-class  hunting-shirts,  leggins,  and 
gauntlets.  When  I  knew  her  she  was  living  alone  in  her  cabin  on  mid- 
prairie,  having  dismissed  her  husband  six  months  previously  in  an  exceed- 
ingly summary  manner.  She  not  only  possessed  redoubtable  qualities  of 
head  and  hand,  but  also  a  nice  sense  of  justice,  even  towards  Indians,  that 
is  not  always  found  on  the  frontier.  Once,  going  there  for  a  buckskin  shirt, 
I  met  at  her  cabin  three  Sioux,  and  from  their  leader,  named  One  Bull, 
purchased  a  tobacco-pouch,  beautifully  worked  with  porcupine  quills. 
She  had  given  them  some  dinner,  for  which  they  had  paid  with  a  deer- 
hide.  Falling  into  conversation,  she  mentioned  that  just  before  I  came  up 
a  white  man,  apparendy  from  Deadwood,  had  passed  by,  and  had  tried  to 
steal  the  Indians'  horses.  The  latter  had  been  too  quick  for  him,  had  run 
him  down,  and  brouoht  him  back  to  the  cabin.  '*  I  told  'em  to  eo  rio-ht  on 
and  hang  him,  and  /would  n't  never  cheep  about  it,"  said  my  informant; 
"  but  they  let  him  go,  after  taking  his  gun.  There  ain't  no  sense  in  steal- 
ing from  Indians  any  more  than  from  white  folks,  and  I  'm  not  going  to 
have  it  round  my  ranch,  neither.  There  !  I  '11  give  'em  back  the  deer-hide 
they  give  me  for  the  dinner  and  things,  anyway."  I  told  her  I  sincerely 
wished  we  could  make  her  sheriff  and  Indian  agent.  She  made  the  Indians 
— and  whites,  too,  for  that  matter — behave  themselves  and  walk  the 
straightest  kind  of  line,  not  tolerating  the  least  symptom  of  rebellion  ;  but 
she  had  a  strong  natural  sense  of  justice. 

The  cowboy  balls,  spoken  of  above,  are  always  great  events  in  the 
small  towns  where  they  take  place,  being  usually  given  when  the  round- 
up passes  near ;  everybody  round  about  comes  in  for  them.  They  are 
almost  always  conducted  with  great  decorum ;  no  unseemly  conduct 
would  be  tolerated.  There  is  usually  some  master  of  the  ceremonies, 
chosen  with  due  reo-ard  to  brawn  as  well  as  brain.  He  calls  off  the  fio- 
ures  of  the  square  dances,  so  that  even  the  inexperienced  may  get  through 
them,  and  incidentally  preserves  order.  Sometimes  we  are  allowed  to 
wear  our  revolvers,  and  sometimes  not.  The  nature  of  the  band,  of 
course,  depends  upon  the  size  of  the  place.  I  remember  one  ball  that 
came  near  beino-  a  failure  because  our  half-breed  fiddler  "went  and   o-ot 

himself  shot,"  as  the  indignant  master  of  the  ceremonies  phrased  it. 
16 


lOO 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


But  all  these  things  are  merely  incidents  in  the  cowboy's  life.  It  is 
utterly  unfair  to  judge  the  whole  class  by  what  a  few  individuals  do  in 
the  course  of  two  or  three  days  spent  in  town,  instead  of  by  the  long 
months  of  weary,  honest  toil  common  to  all  alike.  To  appreciate  properly 
his  fine,  manly  qualities,  the  wild  rough-rider  of  the  plains  should  be  seen 
in  his  own  home.  There  he  passes  his  days,  there  he  does  his  life-work, 
there,  when  he  meets  death,  he  faces  it  as  he  has  faced  many  other  evils, 
with  quiet,  uncomplaining  fortitude.  Brave,  hospitable,  hardy,  and  adven- 
turous, he  is  the  grim  pioneer  of  our  race ;  he  prepares  the  way  for  the 
civilization  from  before  whose  face  he  must  himself  disappear.  Hard  and 
dangerous  though  his  existence  is,  it  has  yet  a  wild  attraction  that  strongly 
draws  to  it  his  bold,  free  spirit.  He  lives  in  the  lonely  lands  where  mighty 
rivers  twist  in  long  reaches  between  the  barren  bluffs ;  where  the  prairies 
stretch  out  into  billowy  plains  of  waving  grass,  girt  only  by  the  blue  hori- 
zon,—  plains  across  whose  endless  breadth  he  can  steer  his  course  for  days 
and  weeks  and  see  neither  man  to  speak  to  nor  hill  to  break  the  level; 
where  the  glory  and  the  burning  splendor  of  the  sunsets  kindle  the  blue 
vault  of  heaven  and  the  level  brown  earth  till  they  merge  together  in  an 
ocean  of  flaming  fire. 


WHICH    IS    THE    BAD    MAN  ? 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER 


THE    SIGN    LANGUAGE. 


VII 


Red  and  White  on  the  Border 


P  to  t88o  the  countr}^  through  which  the  Little 
Missouri   flows  remained  as  wild  and  almost  as 
unknown  as  it  was  when  the  old  explorers  and 
fur  traders  crossed  it  in  the  early   part  of  the 
century.      It  was  the  last  great  Indian  hunting- 
ground,  across  which  Grosventres  and  Mandans, 
Sioux  and  Cheyennes,  and  even  Crows  and  Rees  wandered  in 
chase  of  game,  and  where  they  fought  one  another  and  plun- 
r^^l     dcred  the  small  parties  of  white  trappers  and  hunters  that 
"-^^  '      occasionally  ventured  into  it.      Once  or  twice  generals  like 
Sully  and  Custer  had  penetrated  it  in  the  course  of  the  long, 
tedious,  and  bloody  campaigns  that  finally  broke  the  strength 
of  the    northern   Horse   Indians ;   indeed,   the  trail   made   by 
Custer's  baggage  train  is  to  this  day  one  of  the  well-known 
landmarks,    for    the   deep   ruts   worn    by    the  wheels   of   the 
heavy  wagons  are  in  many  places  still  as  distinctly  to  be  seen 

as  ever. 

In  1883,  a  regular  long-range  skirmish  took  place  just 
south  of  us  between  some  Cheyennes  and  some  cowboys,  with  bloodshed 
on  both  sides,  while  about  the  same  time  a  band  of  Sioux  plundered  a 
party  of  buffalo  hunters  of  everything  they  owned,  and  some  Crows  who 
attempted  the  same  feat  with  another  party  were  driven  off  with  the  loss  of 
two  of  their  number.  Since  then  there  have  been  in  our  neighborhood  no 
stand-up  fights  or  regular  raids  ;  but  the  Indians  have  at  different  times 
proved  more  or  less  troublesome,  burning  the  grass,  and  occasionally  kill- 
ino-  stock  or  carrying  off  horses  that  have  wandered  some  distance  away. 
They  have  also  themselves  suffered  somewhat  at  the  hands  of  white 
horse-thieves.  '°' 


THE    PEACE    SIGN. 


I02  RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

Bands  of  them,  accompanied  by  their  squaws  and  children,  often  come 
into  the  ranch  country,  either  to  trade  or  to  hunt,  and  are  then,  of  course, 
perfectly  meek  and  peaceable.  If  they  stay  any  time  they  build  them- 
selves quite  comfortable  tepees  (wigwams,  as  they  would  be  styled  in  the 
East),  and  an  Indian  camp  is  a  rather  interesting,  though  very  dirty,  place 
to  visit.  On  our  ranch  we  get  along  particularly  well  with  them,  as  it  is  a 
rule  that  they  shall  be  treated  as  fairly  as  if  they  were  whites :  we  neither 
wrong  them  ourselves  nor  allow  others  to  wrong  them.  We  have  always, 
for  example,  been  as  keen  in  putting  down  horse-stealing  from  Indians 
as  from  whites — which  indicates  rather  an  advanced  stage  of  frontier 
morality,  as  theft  from  the  "redskins"  or  the  "Government"  is  usually 
held  to  be  a  very  trivial  matter  compared  with  the  heinous  crime  of  theft 
from  "  citizens." 

There  is  always  danger  in  meeting  a  band  of  young  bucks  in  lonely, 
uninhabited  country — those  that  have  barely  reached  manhood  being  the 
most  truculent,  insolent,  and  reckless.  A  man  meeting  such  a  party  runs 
great  risk  of  losing  his  horse,  his  rifle,  and  all  else  he  has.  This  has  hap- 
pened quite  frequently  during  the  past  few  years  to  hunters  or  cowboys 
who  have  wandered  into  the  debatable  territory  where  our  country  borders 
on  the  Indian  lands;  and  in  at  least  one  such  instance,  that  took  place 
three  years  ago,  the  unfortunate  individual  lost  his  life  as  well  as  his 
belongings.  But  a  frontiersman  of  any  experience  can  generally  "stand 
off"  a  small  number  of  such  assailants,  unless  he  loses  his  nerve  or  is 
taken  by  surprise. 

jMy  only  adventure  with  Indians  was  of  a  very  mild  kind.  It  was  in 
the  course  of  a  solitary  trip  to  the  north  and  east  of  our  range,  to  what 
was  then  practically  unknown  country,  although  now  containing  many 
herds  of  cattle.  One  morning  I  had  been  traveling  along  the  edge  of  the 
prairie,  and  about  noon  I  rode  Manitou  up  a  slight  rise  and  came  out  on  a 
plateau  that  was  perhaps  half  a  mile  broad.  When  near  the  middle,  four 
or  five  Indians  suddenly  came  up  over  the  edge,  directly  in  front  of  me. 
The  second  they  saw  me  they  whipped  their  guns  out  of  their  slings, 
started  their  horses  into  a  run.  and  came  on  at  full  tilt,  w^hooping  and 
brandishing  their  weapons.  I  instantly  reined  up  and  dismounted.  The 
level  plain  where  we  were  was  of  all  places  the  one  on  which  such 
an  onslaught  could  best  be  met  In  any  broken  country,  or  where  there 
is  much  cover,  a  white  man  is  at  a  great  disadvantage  if  pitted  against 
such  adepts  in  the  art  of  hiding  as  Indians ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
latter  will  rarely  rush  in  on  a  foe  who.  even  if  overpowered  in  the  end, 
will  probably  inflict  severe  loss  on  his  assailants.     The  fury  of  an   Indian 


RED    AND    WHITE    ON    THE    BORDER 


lO 


charge,  and  the  whoops  by  which  it  is  accompanied,  often  scare  horses  so 
as  to  stampede  them  ;  but  in  Manitou  I  had  perfect  trust,  and  the  old 
fellow  stood  as  steady  as  a  rock,  merely  cocking  his  ears  and  looking 
round  at  the  noise.  I  waited  until  the  Indians  were  a  hundred  yards  off, 
and  then  threw  up  my  rifle  and  drew  a  bead  on  the  foremost.     The  effect 


>\(f 


^ 


STANDING     OFF     INDIANS. 


was  like  magic.  The  whole  party  scattered  out  as  wild  pigeons  or  teal 
ducks  sometimes  do  when  shot  at,  and  doubled  back  on  their  tracks,  the 
men  bending  over  alongside  their  horses.  When  some  distance  off  they 
halted  and  gathered  together  to  consult,  and  after  a  minute  one  came  for- 
ward alone,  ostentatiously  dropping  his  rifle  and  waving  a  blanket  over 
his  head.  When  he  came  to  within  fifty  yards  I  stopped  him,  and  he 
pulled  out  a  piece  of  paper — all  Indians,  when  absent  from  their  reserva- 
tions, are  supposed  to  carry  passes — and  called  out.  "How!  Me  good 
Indian  !  "  I  answered,  "  How,"  and  assured  him  most  sincerely  I  was  very 
glad  he  was  a  good  Indian,  but  I  would  not  let  him  come  closer;  and  when 
his  companions  began  to  draw  near,  I  covered  him  with  the  rifle  and  made 
him  move  off.  which  he  did  with  a  sudden  lapse  into  the  most  canonical 


I04 


RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


Anglo-Saxon  profanity.  I  then  started  to  lead  my  horse  out  to  the 
prairie ;  and  after  hovering  round  a  short  time  they  rode  off,  while  I  fol- 
lowed suit,  but  in  the  opposite  direction.  It  had  all  passed  too  quickly  for 
me  to  have  time  to  get  frightened ;  but  during  the  rest  of  my  ride  I  was 
exceedingly  uneasy,  and  pushed  tough,  speedy  old  Manitou  along  at  a 
rapid  rate,  keeping  well  out  on  the  level.  However,  I  never  saw  the 
Indians  again.  They  may  not  have  intended  any  mischief  beyond  giving 
me  a  fright ;  but  I  did  not  dare  to  let  them  come  to  close  quarters,  for 
they  would  have  probably  taken  my  horse  and  rifle,  and  not  impossibly  my 
scalp  as  well.  Towards  nightfall  I  fell  in  with  two  old  trappers  who  lived 
near  Killdeer  Mountains,  and  they  informed  me  that  my  assailants  were 
some  young  Sioux  bucks,  at  whose  hands  they  themselves  had  just  suffered 
the  loss  of  two  horses. 

A  few  cool,  resolute  whites,  well  armed,  can  generally  beat  back  a  much 
larger  number  of  Indians  if  attacked  in  the  open.  One  of  the  first  cattle 
outfits  that  came  to  the  Powder  River  country,  at  the  very  end  of  the  last 
war  with  the  Sioux  and  Cheyennes,  had  an  experience  of  this  sort.  There 
were  six  or  eight  whites,  including  the  foreman,  who  was  part  owner,  and 
they  had  about  a  thousand  head  of  cattle.  These  they  intended  to  hold 
just  out  of  the  dangerous  district  until  the  end  of  the  war.  which  was  evi- 
dently close  at  hand.  They  would  thus  get  first  choice  of  the  new  grazing 
grounds.  But  they  ventured  a  little  too  far,  and  one  day  while  on  the 
trail  were  suddenly  charged  by  fifty  or  sixty  Indians,  The  cattle  were 
scattered  in  every  direction,  and  many  of  them  slain  in  wantonness,  though 
most  were  subsequently  recovered.  All  the  loose  horses  were  driven 
off.  But  the  men  themselves  instantly  ran  together  and  formed  a  ring, 
fighting  from  behind  the  pack  and  saddle  ponies.  One  of  their  num- 
ber was  killed,  as  well  as  two  or  three  of  the  animals  composing  their 
living  breastwork  ;  but  being  good  riflemen,  they  drove  off  their  foes.  The 
latter  did  not  charge  them  directly,  but  circled  round,  each  rider  concealed 
on  the  outside  of  his  horse  ;  and  though  their  firing  was  very  rapid,  it  was, 
naturally,  very  wild.  The  whites  killed  a  good  many  ponies,  and  got  one 
scalp,  belonging  to  a  young  Sioux  brave  who  dashed  up  too  close,  and 
whose  body  in  consequence  could  not  be  carried  off  by  his  comrades,  as 
happened  to  the  two  or  three  others  who  were  seen  to  fall.  Both  the  men 
who  related  the  incident  to  me  had  been  especially  struck  by  the  skill  and 
daring  shown  by  the  Indians  in  thus  carrying  off  their  dead  and  wounded 
the  instant  they  fell. 

The  relations  between  the  white  borderers  and  their  red-skinned  foes 
and  neighbors  are  rarely  pleasant.     There  are  incessant  quarrels,  and  each 


RED    AND    WHITE    ON    THE    BORDER  105 

side  has  to  complain  of  bitter  wrongs.  Many  of  the  frontiersmen  are 
brutal,  reckless,  and  overbearing ;  most  of  the  Indians  are  treacherous, 
revengeful,  and  fiendishly  cruel.  Crime  and  bloodshed  are  the  only  possi- 
ble results  when  such  men  are  brought  in  contact.  Writers  usually  pay 
heed  only  to  one  side  of  the  story  ;  they  recite  the  crimes  committed  by 
one  party,  whether  whites  or  Indians,  and  omit  all  reference  to  the  equally 
numerous  sins  of  the  other.  In  our  dealings  with  the  Indians  we  have 
erred  quite  as  often  through  sentimentality  as  through  willful  wrong-doing. 
Out  of  my  own  short  experience  I  could  recite  a  dozen  instances  of  white 
outrages  which,  if  told  alone,  would  seem  to  justify  all  the  outcry  raised  on 
behalf  of  the  Indian;  and  I  could  also  tell  of  as  many  Indian  atrocities 
which  make  one  almost  feel  that  not  a  single  one  of  the  race  should  be  left 
alive. 

The  chief  trouble  arises  from  the  feeling  alluded  to  in  this  last  sen- 
tence^—  the  tendency  on  each  side  to  hold  the  race,  and  not  the  individual, 
responsible  for  the  deeds  of  the  latter.  The  skirmish  between  the  cow- 
boys and  the  Cheyennes,  spoken  of  above,  offers  a  case  in  point.  It  was 
afterwards  found  out  that  two  horse-thieves  had  stolen  some  ponies  from 
the  Cheyennes.  The  latter  at  once  sallied  out  and  attempted  to  take 
some  from  a  cow  camp,  and  a  fight  resulted.  In  exactly  the  same  way  I 
once  knew  a  party  of  buffalo  hunters,  who  had  been  robbed  of  their  horses 
by  the  Sioux,  to  retaliate  by  stealing  an  equal  number  from  some  perfectly 
peaceful  Grosventres.  A  white  or  an  Indian  who  would  not  himself  commit 
any  outrage  will  yet  make  no  effort  to  prevent  his  fellows  from  organizing 
expeditions  against  men  of  the  rival  race.  This  is  natural  enough  where 
law  is  weak,  and  where,  in  consequence,  every  man  has  as  much  as  he 
can  do  to  protect  himself  without  meddling  in  the  quarrels  of  his  neigh- 
bors. Thus  a  white  community  will  often  refrain  from  taking  active  steps 
against  men  who  steal  horses  only  from  the  Indians,  although  I  have 
known  a  number  of  instances  where  the  ranchmen  have  themselves 
stopped  such  outrages.  The  Indians  behave  in  the  same  way.  There  is 
a  peaceful  tribe  not  very  far  from  us  which  harbors  two  or  three  red  horse- 
thieves,  who  steal  from  the  whites  at  every  chance.  Recently,  in  our 
country,  an  expedition  was  raised  to  go  against  these  horse-thieves,  and 
it  was  only  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  it  was  stopped  :  had  it  actually 
gone,  accompanied  as  it  would  have  been  by  scoundrels  bent  on  plunder, 
as  well  as  by  wronged  men  who  thought  all  redskins  pretty  much  alike, 
the  inevitable  result  would  have  been  a  bloody  fight  with  all  the  Indians, 
both  good  and  bad. 

Not  only  do  Indians  differ  individually,  but  they  differ  as  tribes.     An 


RED  AND  WHITE  ON  THE  BORDER  lO- 

upper-class  Cherokee  is  nowadays  as  good  as  a  white.  The  Nez  Perces 
differ  from  the  Apaches  as  much  as  a  Scotch  laird  does  from  a  Calabrian 
bandit.  A  Cheyenne  warrior  is  one  of  the  most  redoubtable  foes  in  the 
whole  world;  a  "digger"  Snake  one  of  the  most  despicable.  The  Pueblo 
is  as  thrift)',  industrious,  and  peaceful  as  any  European  peasant ,  and  no 
Arab  of  the  Soudan  is  a  lazier,  wilder  robber  than  is  the  Arapahoe. 

The  frontiersmen  themselves  differ  almost  as  widely  from  one  another. 
But  in  the  event  of  an  Indian  outbreak  all  suffer  alike,  and  so  all  are 
obliged  to  stand  together :  when  the  reprisals  for  a  deed  of  guilt  are  sure 
to  fall  on  the  innocent,  the  latter  have  no  resource  save  to  ally  themselves 
with  the  guilty.  Moreover,  even  the  best  Indians  are  very  apt  to  have  a 
good  deal  of  the  wild  beast  in  them;  when  they  scent  blood  they  wish 
their  share  of  it,  no  matter  from  whose  veins  it  flows.  I  once  had  a  Ger- 
man in  my  employ,  who,  when  a  young  child,  had  lost  all  his  relations  b)- 
a  fate  so  terrible  that  it  had  weighed  down  his  whole  after-life.  His 
family  was  living  out  on  the  extreme  border  at  the  time  of  the  great 
Sioux  outbreak  towards  the  end  of  the  civil  war.  There  were  many 
Indians  around,  seemingly  on  good  terms  with  them;  and  to  two  of  these 
Indians  they  had  been  able  to  be  of  much  service,  so  that  they  became 
great  friends.  When  the  outbreak  occurred,  the  members  of  this  famih 
were  among  the  first  captured.  The  two  friendly  Indians  then  endeav- 
ored to  save  their  lives,  doing  all  they  could  to  dissuade  their  comrades 
from  committing  violence.  Finally,  after  an  angry  discussion,  the  chief, 
who  was  present,  suddenly  ended  it  by  braining  the  mother.  The  two 
former  friends  then,  finding  their  efforts  useless,  forthwith  turned  round 
and  joined  with  the  others,  first  in  violating  the  wretched  daughters,  and 
then  in  putting  them  to  death  with  tortures  that  cannot  even  be  hinted 
at.  The  boy  alone  was  allowed  to  live.  If  he  had  been  a  native-born 
frontiersman,  instead  of  a  peaceful,  quiet  German,  he  probably  would  have 
turned  into  an  inveterate  Indian-slayer,  resolute  to  kill  any  of  the  hated 
race  wherever  and  whenever  met — a  type  far  from  unknown  on  the 
border,  of  which  I  have  myself  seen  at  least  one  example. 

With  this  incident  it  is  only  fair  to  contrast  another  that  I  heard 
related  while  spending  the  night  in  a  small  cow  ranch  on  the  Beaver, 
whither  I  had  ridden  on  one  of  our  many  tedious  hunts  after  lost  horses. 
Being  tired,  I  got  into  my  bunk  early,  and  while  lying  there  listened  to 
the  conversation  of  two  cowboys — both  strangers  to  me — who  had  also 
ridden  up  to  the  ranch  to  spend  the  night.  They  were  speaking  of 
Indians,  and  mentioned,  certainly  without  any  marked  disapprobation,  a 
jury  that  had  just  acquitted  a  noted  horse-thief  of  the  charge  of  stealing 


Io8  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

stock  from  some  Piegans,  though  he  himseh  had  openly  admitted  its 
truth.  One,  an  unprepossessing,  beetle-browed  man,  suddenly  remarked 
that  he  had  once  met  an  Indian  who  was  a  pretty  good  fellow,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  the  story.  A  small  party  of  Indians  had  passed  the  wanter 
near  the  ranch  at  which  he  was  employed.  The  chief  had  two  particu- 
larly tine  horses,  which  so  excited  his  cupidity  that  one  night  he  drove 
them  oft"  and  "cached" — that  is,  hid  —  them  in  a  safe  place.  The  chief 
looked  for  them  high  and  low,  but  without  success.  Soon  afterwards  one 
of  the  cowboy's  own  horses  strayed.  When  spring  came  the  Indians 
went  awa}^ ;  but  three  days  afterwards  the  chief  returned,  bringing  with 
him  the  strayed  horse,  wdiich  he  had  happened  to  run  across.  'T  could  n't 
stand  that,"  said  the  narrator,  "so  I  just  told  him  I  reckoned  I  knew 
where  his  own  lost  horses  were,  and  I  saddled  up  my  bronch'  and 
piloted  him  to  them." 

Here  and  there  on  the  border  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  mixture 
with  the  Indian  blood  ;  much  more  than  is  commonly  supposed.  One  of 
the  most  hard-working  and  prosperous  men  in  our  neighborhood  is  a 
Chippewa  half-breed ;  he  is  married  to  a  white  wife,  and  ranks  in  every 
respect  as  a  white.  Two  of  our  richest  cattle-men  are  married  to  Indian 
women;  their  children  are  being  educated  in  convents.  In  several  of  the 
most  thriving  North-western  cities  men  could  be  pointed  out,  standing 
high  in  the  community,  who  have  a  strong  dash  of  Indian  blood  in  their 
veins.  Often,  however,  especially  in  the  lower  classes,  they  seem  to  feel 
some  shame  about  admitting  the  cross,  so  that  in  a  couple  of  generations 
it  is  forgotten. 

Indians  are  excellent  fighters,  though  they  do  not  shoot  well  —  being 
in  this  respect  much  inferior  not  only  to  the  old  hunters,  but  also,  nowa- 
days, to  the  regular  soldiers,  who  during  the  past  three  or  four  years  have 
improved  wonderfully  in  marksmanship.  They  have  a  very  effective 
discipline  of  their  own,  and  thus  a  body  of  them  may  readily  be  an  over- 
match for  an  equal  number  of  frontiersmen  if  the  latter  have  no  leader 
whom  they  respect.  If  the  cowboys  have  rifles — for  the  revolver  is  useless 
in  long-range  individual  fighting — they  feel  no  fear  of  the  Indians,  so  long 
as  there  are  but  half  a  dozen  or  so  on  a  side  ;  but,  though  infinitely  quicker 
in  their  movements  than  regular  cavalry,  yet,  owing  to  their  heavy  saddles, 
they  are  not  able  to  make  quite  so  wonderful  marches  as  the  Indians  do, 
and  their  unruly  spirit  often  renders  them  ineffective  w^hen  gathered  in  any 
number  without  a  competent  captain.  Under  a  man  like  Forrest  they 
would  become  the  most  formidable  fighting  horsemen  in  the  world. 

In  the  summer  of  1886,  at  the  time  of  the  war-scare  over  the  "  Cutting 
incident,"  we  began  the  organization  of  a  troop  of  cavalry  in  our  district. 


RED    AND    WHITE    ON    THE    BORDER 


109 


notifying  the  Secretary  of  War  that  we  were  at  the  service  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  being-  promised  every  assistance  by  our  excellent  chief  execu- 
tive of  the  Territory,  Governor  Pierce.  Of  course  the  cowboys  were  all 
eager  for  war,  they  did  not  much  care  with  whom ;  they  were  very 
patriotic,*  they  were  fond  of  adventure,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  they  were  b)- 
no  means  averse  to  the  prospect  of  plunder.  News  from  the  outside  world 
came  to  us  very  irregularly,  and  often  in  distorted  form,  so  that  we  began 
to  think  we  might  get  involved  in  a  conflict  not  only  with  Mexico,  but 
with  England  also.  One  evening  at  my  ranch  the  men  began  talking  over 
the  English  soldiers,  so  I  got  down  "  Napier  "  and  read  them  several  extracts 
from  his  descriptions  of  the  fighting  in  the  Spanish  peninsula,  also 
recounting  as  well  as  I  could  the  great  deeds  of  the  British  cavalry  from 
Waterloo  to  Balaklava,  and  finishing  up  by  describing  from  memory  the 
fine  appearance,  the  magnificent  equipment,  and  the  superb  horses  of  the 
Household  cavalry  and  of  a  regiment  of  hussars  I  had  once  seen. 

All  of  this  produced  much  the  same  effect  on  my  listeners  that  the 
sight  of  Marmion's  cavalcade  produced  in  the  minds  of  the  Scotch  moss- 
troopers on  the  eve  of  Flodden  ;  and  at  the  end,  one  of  them,  who  had  been 
looking  into  the  fire  and  rubbing  his  hands  together,  said  with  regretful 
emphasis,  "  Oh,  how  I  luoiild  like  to  kill  one  of  them  ! " 

*  The  day  that  the  Anarchists  were  hung  in  Chicago,  my  men  joined  with  the  rest  of  the 
neighborhood  in  burning  them  in  effigy. 


ONE   OF   THE    BOVS. 


THE    INDIAN    PONY. 


SHERIFF'S  WORK  ON  A  RANCH 


.^, 


AN    OLn-TIMK    MOUNTAIN    MAN    WITH    HIS    PONIKS. 


VIII 


Sheriff's  Work   on   a   Ranch 


N  our  own  immediate  locality  we  have  had 
more  difficulty  with  white  desperadoes  than 
with  the  redskins.  At  times  there  has  been  a 
jlj  good  deal  of  cattle-killing  and  horse-stealing, 
and  occasionally  a  murder  or  two.  But  as 
regards  the  last,  a  man  has  very  little  more  to 
fear  in  the  West  than  in  the  East,  in  spite  of 
all  the  lawless  acts  one  reads  about.  Undoubtedly  a  long-standing 
quarrel  sometimes  ends  in  a  shooting-match ;  and  of  course  savage 
affrays  occasionally  take  place  in  the  bar-rooms ;  in  which,  be  it 
remarked,  that,  inasmuch  as  the  men  are  generally  drunk,  and,  further- 
more, as  the  revolver  is  at  best  a  rather  inaccurate  weapon,  outsiders 
are  nearly  as  apt  to  get  hurt  as  are  the  participants.  But  if  a  man 
minds  his  own  business  and  does  not  q;o  into  bar-rooms,  o-amblina- 
saloons,  and  the  like,  he  need  have  no  fear  of  being  molested ;  while  a 
revolver  is  a  mere  foolish  incumbrance  for  any  but  a  trained  expert,  and 
need  never  be  carried.  Against  horse-thieves,  cattle-thieves,  claim-jump- 
ers, and  the  like,  however,  every  ranchman  has  to  be  on  his  guard  ;  and 
armed  collisions  with  these  gentry  are  sometimes  inevitable.  The  fact 
of  such  scoundrels  being  able  to  ply  their  trade  with  impunity  for  any 
length  of  time  can  only  be  understood  if  the  absolute  wildness  of  our  land 
is  taken  into  account.  The  country  is  yet.  unsurveyed  and  unmapped; 
the  course  of  the  river  itself,  as  put  down  on  the  various  Government 
and  railroad  maps,  is  very  much  a  mere  piece  of  guesswork,  its  bed 
being  in  many  parts — as  by  my  ranch — ten  or  fifteen  miles,  or  more,  away 
from  where  these  maps  make  it.  White  hunters  came  into  the  land  by 
1880;  but  the  actual  settlement  only  began  in  1882,  when  the  first  cattle- 


18 


I  12 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


men  drove  in  their  herds,  all  of  Northern  stock,  the  Texans  not  passing 
north  oi  the  country  around  the  head-waters  of  the  river  until  the  follow- 
ing" \ear.  while  until  1885  the  territory  through  which  it  ran  for  the  final 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  before  entering  the  Big  Missouri  remained  as 
little  known  as  ever. 

Some  of  us  had  always  been  anxious  to  run  down  the  river  in  a  boat 
during  the  time  of  the  spring  floods,  as  we  thought  we  might  get  good 
duck  and  goose  shooting,  and  also  kill  some  beaver,  while  the  trip  would, 
in  addition,  have  all  the  charm  of  an  exploring  expedition.  Twice,  so  far 
as  we  knew,  the  feat  had  been  performed,  both  times  by  hunters,  and  in 
one  instance  with  very  good  luck  in  shooting  and  trapping.  A  third 
attempt,  b)-  two  men  on  a  raft,  made  the  spring  preceding  that  on  which 
we  made  ours,  had  been  less  successful ;  for,  when  a  score  or  so  of  miles 
below  our  ranch,  a  bear  killed  one  of  the  two  adventurers,  and  the  sur- 
vivor returned. 

We  could  onlv  £ro  down  durino^  a  freshet;  for  the  Little  Missouri,  like 
most  plains'  rivers,  is  usually  either  a  dwindling  streamlet,  a  mere  slender 
thread  of  sluggish  water,  or  else  a  boiling,  muddy  torrent,  running  over  a 
bed  of  shifting  quicksand,  that  neither  man  nor  beast  can  cross.  It  rises 
and  falls  with  extraordinary  suddenness  and  intensity,  an  instance  of 
which  has  just  occurred  as  this  very  page  is  being  written.  Last  evening, 
when  the  moon  rose,  from  the  ranch  veranda  we  could  see  the  river-bed 
almost  dry,  the  stream  having  shrunk  under  the  drought  till  it  was  little 
but  a  string  of  shallow  pools,  with  between  them  a  trickle  of  water  that 
was  not  ankle  deep,  and  hardly  wet  the  fetlocks  of  the  saddle-band  when 
driven  across  it;  yet  at  daybreak  this  morning,  without  any  rain  having 
fallen  near  us,  but  doubtless  in  consequence  of  some  heavy  cloudburst  near 
its  head,  the  swift,  swollen  current  was  foaming  brim  high  between  the 
banks,  and  even  the  fords  were  swimming-deep  for  the  horses. 

Accordingly  we  had  planned  to  run  down  the  river  sometime  towards 
the  end  of  April,  taking  advantage  of  a  rise  ;  but  an  accident  made  us 
start  three  or  four  weeks  sooner  than  we  had  intended. 

In  1886  the  ice  went  out  of  the  upper  river  very  early,  during  the  first 
part  of  February;  but  it  at  times  almost  froze  over  again,  the  bottom  ice 
did  not  break  up.  and  a  huge  gorge,  scores  of  miles  in  length,  formed  in 
and  above  the  bend  known  as  the  Ox- bow,  a  long  distance  up-stream 
from  my  ranch.  About  the  middle  of  March  this  great  Ox-bow  jam  came 
down  past  us.  It  moved  slowly,  its  front  forming  a  high,  crumbling  wall, 
and  creaming  over  like  an  immense  breaker  on  the  seashore :  we  could 
hear  the  dull  roaring  and  crunching  as  it  plowed  down  the  river-bed  long 


SHERIFF'S   WORK   ON    A    RANCH  1 13 

before  it  came  in  sight  round  the  bend  above  us.  The  ice  kept  pihng  and 
tossing  up  in  the  middle,  and  not  only  heaped  itself  above  the  level  of  the 
banks,  but  also  in  many  places  spread  out  on  each  side  beyond  them, 
grinding  against  the  cottonwood  trees  in  front  of  the  ranch  veranda,  and 
at  one  moment  bidding  fair  to  overwhelm  the  house  itself  It  did  not, 
however,  but  moved  slowly  down  past  us  with  that  look  of  vast,  resistless, 
relentless  force  that  any  great  body  of  moving  ice,  as  a  glacier,  or  an  ice- 
berg, always  conveys  to  the  beholder.  The  heaviest  pressure  from  the 
water  that  was  backed  up  behind  being,  of  course,  always  in  the  middle, 
this  part  kept  breaking  away,  and  finally  was  pushed  on  clear  through, 
leaving  the  river  so  changed  that  it  could  hardly  be  known.  On  each 
bank,  and  for  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  out  from  it  into  the  stream,  was  a 
solid  mass  of  ice,  edging  the  river  along  most  of  its  length,  at  least  as  far 
as  its  course  lay  through  lands  that  we  knew  ;  and  in  the  narrow  channel 
between  the  sheer  ice-walls  the  water  ran  like  a  mill-race. 

At  night  the  snowy,  glittering  masses,  tossed  up  and  heaped  into  fan- 
tastic forms,  shone  like  crystal  in  the  moonlight ;  but  they  soon  lost  their 
beauty,  becoming  fouled  and  blackened,  and  at  the  same  time  melted  and 
settled  down  until  it  was  possible  to  clamber  out  across  the  slippery 
hummocks. 

We  had  brought  out  a  clinker-built  boat  especially  to  ferry  ourselves 
over  the  river  when  it  was  high,  and  were  keeping  our  ponies  on  the 
opposite  side,  where  there  was  a  good  range  shut  in  by  some  very  broken 
country  that  we  knew  they  would  not  be  apt  to  cross.  This  boat  had 
already  proved  very  useful  and  now^  came  in  handier  than  ever,  as 
without  it  we  could  take  no  care  of  our  horses.  We  kept  it  on  the  bank, 
tied  to  a  tree,  and  every  day  would  carry  it  or  slide  it  across  the  hither 
ice  bank,  usually  with  not  a  little  tumbling  and  scrambling  on  our  part, 
lower  it  gently  into  the  swift  current,  pole  it  across  to  the  ice  on  the  far- 
ther bank,  and  then  drag  it  over  that,  repeating  the  operation  when  we 
came  back.  One  day  w^e  crossed  and  walked  off  about  ten  miles  to  a 
tract  of  wild  and  rugged  country,  cleft  in  every  direction  by  ravines  and 
cedar  canons,  in  the  deepest  of  which  we  had  left  four  deer  hanging  a 
fortnight  before,  as  game  thus  hung  up  in  cold  weather  keeps  indefinitely. 
The  walking  was  very  bad,  especially  over  the  clay  buttes ;  for  the  sun  at 
midday  had  enough  strength  to  thaw  out  the  soil  to  the  depth  of  a  few 
inches  only,  and  accordingly  the  steep  hillsides  were  covered  by  a  crust 
of  slippery  mud,  with  the  frozen  ground  underneath.  It  w^as  hard  to  keep 
one's  footing,  and  to  avoid  falling  while  balancing  along  the  knife-like 
ridge  crests,  or  while  clinging  to  the  stunted  sage  brush  as  we  went  down 


1  14 


RANCH    LIFE   AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


into  the  valleys.  1  he  deer  had  been  hung  in  a  thicket  of  dwarfed  cedars; 
but  when  we  reached  the  place  we  found  nothing'  save  scattered  pieces  of 
their  carcasses,  and  the  soft  mud  was  tramped  all  over  with  round,  deeply 
marked  footprints,  some  of  them  but  a  few  hours  old,  showing  that  the 
plunderers  of  our  cache  were  a  pair  of  cougars — "mountain  lions,"  as 
they  are  called  by  the  Westerners.  They  had  evidently  been  at  work  for 
some  time,  and  had  eaten  almost  every  scrap  of  flesh ;  one  of  the  deer  had 
been  carried  for  some  distance  to  the  other  side  of  a  deep,  narrow,  chasm - 
like  gnlly  across  which  the  cougar  must  have  leaped  with  the  carcass  in 
its  mouth.  We  followed  the  fresh  trail  of  the  cougars  for  some  time,  as  it 
was  well  marked,  especially  in  the  snow  still  remaining  in  the  bottoms  of 
the  deeper  ravines ;  finally  it  led  into  a  tangle  of  rocky  hills  riven  by 
dark  cedar-clad  gorges,  in  which  we  lost  it,  and  we  retraced  our  steps, 
intending  to  return  on  the  morrow  with  a  good  track  hound. 

But  we  never  carried  out  our  intentions,  for  next  morning  one  of  my 
men  who  was  out  before  breakfast  came  back  to  the  house  with  the  start- 
ling news  that  our  boat  was  gone — stolen,  for  he  brought  with  him  the 
end  of  the  rope  with  which  it  had  been  tied,  evidently  cut  off  with  a  sharp 
knife ;  and  also  a  red  woolen  mitten  with  a  leather  palm,  which  he  had 
picked  up  on  the  ice.  We  had  no  doubt  as  to  who  had  stolen  it ;  for 
whoever  had  done  so  had  certainly  gone  down  the  river  in  it,  and  the  only 
other  thing  in  the  shape  of  a  boat  on  the  Little  Missouri  was  a  small 
flat-bottomed  scow  in  the  possession  of  three  hard  characters  who  lived  in 
a  shack,  or  hut,  some  twenty  miles  above  us,  and  whom  we  had  shrewdly 
suspected  for  some  time  of  wishing  to  get  out  of  the  country,  as  certain  of 
the  cattle-men  had  begun  openly  to  threaten  to  lynch  them.  They  belonged 
to  a  class  that  always  holds  sway  during  the  raw  youth  of  a  frontier  com- 
munity, and  the  putting  down  of  which  is  the  first  step  towards  decent  gov- 
ernment. Dakota,  west  of  the  Missouri,  has  been  settled  very  recently,  and 
every  town  within  it  has  seen  strange  antics  performed  during  the  past  six 
or  seven  years.  Medora,  in  particular,  has  had  more  than  its  full  share 
of  shooting  and  stabbing  affrays,  horse-stealing,  and  cattle-killing.  But 
the  time  for  such  things  w^as  passing  away ;  and  during  the  preceding  fall 
the  vigilantes — locally  known  as  "  stranglers,"  in  happy  allusion  to  their 
summary  method  of  doing  justice — had  made  a  clean  sweep  of  the  cattle 
country  along  the  Yellowstone  and  that  part  of  the  Big  Missouri  around 
and  below  its  mouth.  Be  it  remarked,  in  passing,  that  while  the  outcome 
of  their  efforts  had  been  in  the  main  wholesome,  yet,  as  is  always  the  case 
in  an  extended  raid  of  vigilantes,  several  of  the  sixty  odd  victims  had  been 
perfectly  innocent  men  who  had  been  hung  or  shot  in  company  with  the 


SHERIFF'S   WORK    ON    A    RANCH 


115 


real  scoundrels,   either  through  carelessness  and  misapprehension  or  on 
account  of  some  personal  spite. 

The  three  men  we  suspected  had  long  been  accused — justly  or  unjustly 
— of  being  implicated  both  in  cattle-killing  and  in  that  worst  of  frontier 
crimes,  horse-stealing  :  it  was  only  by  an  accident  that  they  had  escaped  the 
clutches  of  the  vigilantes  the  preceding  fall.  Their  leader  was  a  well-built 
fellow  named  Finnigan,  who  had  long  red  hair  reaching  to  his  shoulders, 
and  always  wore  a  broad  hat  and  a  fringed  buckskin  shirt.  He  was  rather 
a  hard  case,  and  had  been  chief  actor  in  a  number  of  shooting  scrapes. 
The  other  two  were  a  half-breed,  a  stout,  muscular  man,  and  an  old  Ger- 
man, whose  viciousness  was  of  the  weak  and  shiftless  type. 

We  knew  that  these  three  men  were  becoming  uneasy  and  were  anxious 
to  leave  the  locality ;  and  we  also  knew  that  traveling  on  horseback,  in  the 
direction  in  which  they  would  wish  to  go,  was  almost  impossible,  as  the 
swollen,  ice- fringed  rivers  could  not  be  crossed  at  all,  and  the  stretches  of 
broken  ground  would  form  nearly  as  impassable  barriers.  So  we  had  little 
doubt  that  it  was  they  who  had  taken  our  boat ;  and  as  they  knew  there 
was  then  no  boat  left  on  the  river,  and  as  the  country  along  its  banks  was 
entirely  impracticable  for  horses,  we  felt  sure  they  would  be  confident 
that  there  could  be  no  pursuit. 

Accordingly  we  at  once  set  to  work  in  our  turn  to  build  a  flat-bottomed 
scow,  wherein  to  follow  them.  Our  loss  was  very  annoying,  and  might 
prove  a  serious  one  if  we  were  long  prevented  from  crossing  over  to  look 
after  the  saddle-band ;  but  the  determining  motive  in  our  minds  was 
neither  chagrin  nor  anxiety  to  recover  our  property.  In  any  wild  country 
where  the  power  of  the  law  is  little  felt  or  heeded,  and  where  every  one 
has  to  rely  upon  himself  for  protection,  men  soon  get  to  feel  that  it  is  in 
the  highest  degree  unwise  to  submit  to  any  wrong  without  making  an 
immediate  and  resolute  effort  to  avenge  it  upon  the  wrong-doers,  at  no 
matter  what  cost  of  risk  or  trouble.  To  submit  tamely  and  meekly  to 
theft,  or  to  any  other  injury,  is  to  invite  almost  certain  repetition  of  the 
offense,  in  a  place  where  self-reliant  hardihood  and  the  ability  to  hold  one's 
own  under  all  circumstances  rank  as  the  first  of  virtues. 

Two  of  my  cowboys,  Seawall  and  Dow,  were  originally  from  Maine,  and 
were  mighty  men  of  their  hands,  skilled  in  woodcraft  and  the  use  of  the 
ax,  paddle,  and  rifle.  They  set  to  work  with  a  will,  and,  as  by  good  luck 
there  were  plenty  of  boards,  in  two  or  three  days  they  had  turned  out 
a  first-class  flat-bottom,  which  was  roomy,  drew  very  little  water,  and 
was  dry  as  a  bone ;  and  though,  of  course,  not  a  handy  craft,  was  easily 
enough  managed  in  going  down-stream.    Into  this  we  packed  flour,  coflee. 


jl5  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

and  bacon  enough  to  last  us  a  fortnight  or  so,  plenty  of  warm  bedding,  and 
the  mess  kit ;  and  early  one  cold  March  morning  slid  it  into  the  icy 
current,  took  our  seats,  and  shoved  off  down  the  river. 

There  could  have  been  no  better  men  for  a  trip  of  this  kind  than  my 
two  companions,  Seawall  and  Dow.  They  were  tough,  hardy,  resolute 
fellows,  quick  as  cats,  strong  as  bears,  and  able  to  travel  like  bull  moose. 
We  felt  very  little  uneasiness  as  to  the  result  of  a  fight  with  the  men  we 
were  after,  provided  we  had  anything  like  a  fair  show ;  moreover,  we 
intended,  if  possible,  to  get  them  at  such  a  disadvantage  that  there  would 
not  be  any  fight  at  all.  The  only  risk  of  an)'  consequence  that  we  ran  was 
that  of  being  ambushed  ;  for  the  extraordinary  formation  of  the  Bad  Lands, 
with  the  ground  cut  up  into  gullies,  serried  walls,  and  battlemented  hill- 
tops, makes  it  the  country  of  all  others  for  hiding-places  and  ambuscades. 

For  several  days  before  we  started  the  weather  had  been  bitterly  cold, 
as  a  furious  blizzard  was  blowing ;  but  on  the  day  we  left  there  was  a  lull, 
and  we  hoped  a  thaw  had  set  in.  We  all  were  most  warmly  and  thickly 
dressed,  with  woolen  socks  and  underclothes,  heavy  jackets  and  trousers, 
and  great  fur  coats,  so  that  we  felt  we  could  bid  defiance  to  the  weather. 
Each  carried  his  rifle,  and  we  had  in  addition  a  double-barreled  duck  gun, 
for  water-fowl  and  beaver.  To  manage  the  boat,  we  had  paddles,  heavy 
oars,  and  long  iron-shod  poles,  Seawall  steering  while  Dow  sat  in  the 
bow.  Altogether  we  felt  as  if  we  were  off  on  a  holiday  trip,  and  set  to 
work  to  have  as  good  a  time  as  possible. 

The  river  twisted  in  every  direction,  winding  to  and  fro  across  the 
alluvial  valley  bottom,  only  to  be  brought  up  by  the  rows  of  great  barren 
buttes  that  bounded  it  on  each  edge.  It  had  worn  away  the  sides  of  these 
till  they  towered  up  as  cliffs  of  clay,  marl,  or  sandstone.  Across  their 
white  faces  the  seams  of  coal  drew  sharp  black  bands,  and  they  were  else- 
where blotched  and  varied  with  brown,  yellow,  purple,  and  red.  This 
fantastic  coloring,  together  with  the  jagged  irregularity  of  their  crests, 
channeled  by  the  weather  into  spires,  buttresses,  and  battlements,  as  well 
as  their  barreness  and  the  distinctness  with  which  they  loomed  up  through 
the  high,  dry  air,  gave  them  a  look  that  was  a  singular  mixture  of  the 
terrible  and  the  grotesque.  The  bottoms  were  covered  thickly  with  leal- 
less  Cottonwood  trees,  or  else  with  withered  brown  grass  and  stunted, 
sprawling  sage  bushes.  At  times  the  cliffs  rose  close  to  us  on  either  hand, 
and  again  the  valley  would  widen  into  a  sinuous  oval  a  mile  or  two  long, 
bounded  on  every  side,  as  far  as  our  eyes  could  see,  by  a  bluff  line  with- 
out a  break,  until,  as  we  floated  down  close  to  its  other  end,  there  would 
suddenly  appear  in  one  corner  a  cleft  through  which  the  stream  rushed 
out.     As  it  grew  dusk  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  buttes  lost  nothing  of 


SHERIFF'S    WORK    ON    A    RANCH 


117 


their  weirdness ;  the  twilight  only  made  their  uncouth  shapelessness  more 
grim  and  forbidding.  They  looked  like  the  crouching  figures  of  great 
ooblin  beasts. 

o 

Those  two  hills  on  the  right 
Crouched  like  two  bulls  locked  horn  in  horn  in  tight  — 
While  to  the  left  a  tall  scalped  mountain.  .  .  . 
The  dying  sunset  kindled  through  a  cleft : 
The  hills,  like  giants  at  a  hunting,  lay 
Chin  upon  hand,  to  see  the  game  at  bay  — 

might  well  have  been  written  after  seeing  the  strange,  desolate  lands  lying 
in  western  Dakota. 

All  through  the  early  part  of  the  day  we  drifted  swiftly  down  between 
the  heaped-up  piles  of  ice,  the  cakes  and  slabs  now  dirty  and  unattractive 
looking.  Towards  evening,  however,  there  came  long  reaches  where  the 
banks  on  either  side  were  bare,  though  even  here  there  would  every  now 
and  then  be  necks  where  the  jam  had  been  crowded  into  too  narrow  a 
spot  and  had  risen  over  the  side  as  it  had  done  up-stream,  grinding  the 
bark  from  the  big  cottonwoods  and  snapping  the  smaller  ones  short  off 
In  such  places  the  ice- walls  were  sometimes  eight  or  ten  feet  high,  con- 
tinually undermined  by  the  restless  current ;  and  every  now  and  then 
overhanging  pieces  would  break  off  and  slide  into  the  stream  with  a  loud 
sullen  splash,  like  the  plunge  of  some  great  water  beast.  Nor  did  we  dare 
to  go  in  too  close  to  the  high  cliffs,  as  bowlders  and  earth  masses,  freed 
by  the  thaw  from  the  grip  of  the  frost,  kept  rolling  and  leaping  down 
their   faces   and    forced    us    to 

keep  a  sharp   lookout  lest  our     tJL  > }'}VJ-^ 

boat  should  be  swamped. 

At  nightfall  we  landed,  and 
made  our  camp  on  a  point  of 
wood-covered  land  jutting  out 
into  the  stream.  We  had  seen 
very  little  trace  of  life  until  late 
in  the  day,  for  the  ducks  had 
not  yet  arrived ;  but  in  the 
afternoon  a  sharp-tailed  prai- 
rie fowl  flew  across  stream 
ahead  of  the  boat,  lighting  on 
a  low  branch   bv  the    water's 

■'  IHK     CAPTUKF,     OF    THE     GERMAN. 

edge.    Shooting  him,  we  land- 
ed and  picked  off  two  others  that  were  perched  high  up  in  leafless  cotton- 
woods,  plucking  the  buds.      These  three  birds  served  us  as  supper ;   and 


IlS  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

shortly  afterward,  as  the  cold  grew   more  and  more  biting,  we  rolled  in 
under  our  furs  and  blankets  and  were  soon  asleep. 

In  the  morning"  it  was  evident  that  instead  of  thawing  it  had  grown 
decidedly  colder.  The  anchor  ice  was  running  thick  in  the  river,  and  we 
spent  the  first  hour  or  two  after  sunrise  in  hunting  over  the  frozen  swamp 
bottom  for  white-tail  deer,  of  which  there  were  many  tracks ;  but  we  saw 
nothing.  Then  we  broke  camp  and  again  started  down-stream  —  a  simple 
operation,  as  we  had  no  tent,  and  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  cord  up  our 
bedding  and  gather  the  mess  kit.  It  was  colder  than  before,  and  for 
some  time  we  went  along  in  chilly  silence,  nor  was  it  until  midday  that  the 
sun  warmed  our  blood  in  the  least.  The  crooked  bed  of  the  current 
twisted  hither  and  thither,  but  whichever  way  it  went  the  icy  north  wind, 
blowing  stronger  all  the  time,  drew  steadily  up  it.  One  of  us  remarking 
that  we  bade  fair  to  have  it  in  our  faces  all  day,  the  steersman  announced 
that  we  could  n't,  unless  it  was  the  crookedest  wind  in  Dakota ;  and  half 
an  hour  afterward  we  overheard  him  muttering  to  himself  that  it  Zi'as  the 
crookedest  wind  in  Dakota.  We  passed  a  group  of  tepees  on  one  bottom, 
marking  the  deserted  winter  camp  of  some  Grosventre  Indians,  which 
some  of  my  men  had  visited  a  few  months  previously  on  a  trading  expe- 
dition. It  was  almost  the  last  point  on  the  river  with  which  we  were 
acquainted.  At  midday  we  landed  on  a  sand-bar  for  lunch  —  a  simple 
enough  meal,  the  tea  being  boiled  over  a  fire  of  driftwood,  that  also  fried 
the  bacon,  while  the  bread  only  needed  to  be  baked  every  other  day. 
Then  we  again  shoved  off.  As  the  afternoon  waned  the  cold  grew  still 
more  bitter,  and  the  wind  increased,  blowing  in  fitful  gusts  against  us, 
until  it  chilled  us  to  the  marrow  when  we  sat  still.  But  we  rarely  did  sit 
still ;  for  even  the  rapid  current  was  unable  to  urge  the  light-draught 
scow  down  in  the  teeth  of  the  strong  blasts,  and  we  only  got  her  along  by 
dint  of  hard  work  with  pole  and  paddle.  Long  before  the  sun  went  down 
the  ice  had  begun  to  freeze  on  the  handles  of  the  poles,  and  we  were  not 
sorry  to  haul  on  shore  for  the  night.  For  supper  we  again  had  prairie 
fowl,  having  shot  four  from  a  great  patch  of  bulberry  bushes  late  in  the 
afternoon.  A  man  doing  hard  open-air  work  in  cold  weather  is  always 
hungry  for  meat. 

During  the  night  the  thermometer  went  down  to  zero,  and  in  the 
morning  the  anchor  ice  was  running  so  thickly  that  we  did  not  care  to 
start  at  once,  for  it  is  most  difficult  to  handle  a  boat  in  the  deep  frozen 
slush.  Accordingly  we  took  a  couple  of  hours  for  a  deer  hunt,  as  there 
were  evidently  many  white-tail  on  the  bottom.  We  selected  one  long, 
isolated  patch  of  tangled  trees  and  brushwood,  two  of  us  beating  through 


SHERIFFS   WORK    ON    A   RANCH 


119 


it  while  tlie  other  watched  one  end ;  but  ahiiost  before  we  had  begun  four 
deer  broke  out  at  one  side,  loped  easily  off,  evidently  not  much  scared, 
and  took  refuge  in  a  deep  glen  or  gorge,  densely  wooded  with  cedars,  that 
made  a  blind  pocket  in  the  steep  side  of  one  of  the  great  plateaus  bounding 
the  bottom.  After  a  short  consultation,  one  of  our  number  crept  round  to 
the  head  of  the  gorge,  making  a  wide  detour,  and  the  other  two  advanced 
up  it  on  each  side,  thus  completely  surrounding  the  doomed  deer.      They 


HANDS    up!" — THE    CAPTURE    OF    FINNIGAN. 


attempted  to  break  out  past  the  man  at  the  head  of  the  glen,  who  shot 
down  a  couple,  a  buck  and  a  yearling  doe.  The  other  two  made  their 
escape  by  running  off  over  ground  so  rough  that  it  looked  fitter  to  be 
crossed  by  their  upland-loving  cousins,  the  black-tail. 

This  success  gladdened  our  souls,  insuring  us  plenty  of  fresh  meat. 
We  carried  pretty  much  all  of  both  deer  back  to  camp,  and,  after  a  hearty 
breakfast,  loaded  our  scow  and  started  merrily  off  once  more.  The  cold 
still  continued  intense,  and  as  the  day  wore  away  we  became  numbed  by 
it,  until  at  last  an  Incident  occurred  that  set  our  blood  running  freely 
again. 

We  were,  of  course,  always  on  the  alert,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout 
ahead  and  around  us,  and  making  as  little  noise  as  possible.  Finally  our 
watchfulness  was  rewarded,  for  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  of  this,  the 
19 


I20  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

third  da)-  \vc  had  been  gone,  as  we  came  around  a  bend,  we  saw  in  front 
of  us  the  lost  boat,  together  with  a  scow,  moored  against  the  bank,  while 
from  among  the  bushes  some  little  way  back  the  smoke  of  a  camp-fire 
curled  up  through  the  frosty  air.  We  had  come  on  the  camp  of  the  thieves. 
As  I  glanced  at  the  faces  of  my  two  followers  I  was  struck  by  the  grim, 
eager  look  in  their  eyes.  Our  overcoats  were  off  in  a  second,  and  after 
exchanging  a  few  muttered  words,  the  boat  was  hastily  and  silently  shoved 
towards  the  bank.  As  soon  as  it  touched  the  shore  ice  I  leaped  out  and 
ran  up  behind  a  clump  of  bushes,  so  as  to  cover  the  landing  of  the  others, 
who  had  to  make  the  boat  fast.  For  a  moment  we  felt  a  thrill  of  keen 
excitement,  and  our  veins  tingled  as  we  crept  cautiously  towards  the  fire, 
for  it  seemed  likely  that  there  would  be  a  brush  ;  but,  as  it  turned  out,  this 
was  almost  the  only  moment  of  much  interest,  for  the  capture  itself  was  as 
tame  as  possible. 

The  men  we  were  after  knew  they  had  taken  with  them  the  only  craft 
there  was  on  the  river,  and  so  felt  perfectly  secure  ;  accordingly,  we  took 
them  absolutely  by  surprise.  The  only  one  in  camp  was  the  German, 
whose  weapons  were  on  the  ground,  and  who,  of  course,  gave  up  at  once, 
his  two  companions  being  off  hunting.  We  made  him  safe,  delegating  one 
of  our  number  to  look  after  him  particularly  and  see  that  he  made  no  noise, 
and  then  sat  down  and  waited  for  the  others.  The  camp  was  under  the  lee 
of  a  cut  bank,  behind  which  we  crouched,  and,  after  waiting  an  hour  or 
over,  the  men  we  were  after  came  in.  We  heard  them  a  long  way  off  and 
made  ready,  watching  them  for  some  minutes  as  they  walked  towards  us, 
their  rifles  on  their  shoulders  and  the  sunlight  glinting  on  the  steel 
barrels.  When  they  were  within  twenty  yards  or  so  we  straightened  up 
from  behind  the  bank,  covering  them  with  our  cocked  rifles,  while  I 
shouted  to  them  to  hold  up  their  hands  —  an  order  that  in  such  a  case,  in 
the  West,  a  man  is  not  apt  to  disregard  if  he  thinks  the  giver  is  in  earnest. 
The  half-breed  obeyed  at  once,  his  knees  trembling  as  if  they  had  been 
made  of  whalebone.  Finnigan  hesitated  for  a  second,  his  eyes  fairly 
wolfish ;  then,  as  I  walked  up  within  a  few  paces,  covering  the  center  of 
his  chest  so  as  to  avoid  overshooting,  and  repeating  the  command,  he  saw 
that  he  had  no  show,  and,  with  an  oath,  let  his  rifle  drop  and  held  his 
hands  up  beside  his  head. 

It  was  nearly  dusk,  so  we  camped  where  we  were.  The  first  thing  to 
be  done  was  to  collect  enough  wood  to  enable  us  to  keep  a  blazing  fire  all 
night  long.  While  Seawall  and  Dow,  thoroughly  at  home  in  the  use  of 
the  ax,  chopped  down  dead  cottonwood  trees  and  dragged  the  logs  up 
into  a  huge  pile,  I  kept  guard  over  the  three  prisoners,  who  were  huddled 


SHERIFF'S    WORK   ON    A    RANCH 


121 


"TAKE    OFF   YOUR    BOOTS  ! 


into  a  sullen  group  some  twenty  yards  off,  just  the  right  distance  for  the 
buckshot  in  the  double-barrel.  Having  captured  our  men,  we  were  in  a 
quandary  how  to  keep  them.  The  cold  was  so  intense  that  to  tie  them 
tightly  hand  and  foot  meant,  in  all  likelihood,  freezing  both  hands  and  feet 
off  during  the  night ;  and  it  was  no  use  tying  them  at  all  unless  we  tied 
them  tightly  enough  to  stop  in  part  the  circulation.  So  nothing  was  left  for 
us  to  do  but  to  keep  perpetual  guard  over  them.  Of  course  we  had  care- 
fully searched  them,  and  taken  away  not  only  their  firearms  and  knives,  but 
everything  else  that  could  possibly  be  used  as  a  weapon.  By  this  time 
they  were  pretty  well  cowed,  as  they  found  out  very  quickly  that  they 
would  be  well  treated  so  long  as  they  remained  quiet,  but  would  receive 
some  rough  handling  if  they  attempted  any  disturbance. 

Our  next  step  was  to  cord  their  weapons  up  in  some  bedding,  which  w-e 
sat  on  while  we  took  supper.  Immediately  afterward  we  made  the  men 
take  off  their  boots — an  additional  safeguard,  as  it  was  a  cactus  country, 
in  which  a  man  could  travel  barefoot  only  at  the  risk  of  almost  certainly 
laming  himself  for  life — and  go  to  bed,  all  three  lying  on  one  buffalo  robe 
and  being  covered  by  another,  in  the  full  light  of  the  blazing  fire.  We  deter- 
mined to  watch  in  succession  a  half-night  apiece,  thus  each  getting  a  full 


122  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

rest  every  third  night.  I  took  first  watch,  my  two  companions,  revolver 
under  head.  roUing  up  in  their  blankets  on  the  side  of  the  fire  opposite 
that  on  which  the  three  captives  lay  ;  while  I,  in  fur  cap,  gantlets,  and 
overcoat,  took  my  station  a  little  way  back  in  the  circle  of  firelight,  in  a 
position  in  which   I   could  watch  my  men  with  the  absolute  certainty  of 


UOWN-STKEAM. 


being  able  to  stop  any  movement,  no  matter  how  sudden.  For  this  night- 
watching  we  always  used  the  double-barrel  with  buckshot,  as  a  rifle  is 
uncertain  in  the  dark ;  while  with  a  shot-gun  at  such  a  distance,  and  with 
men  lying  down,  a  person  who  is  watchful  may  be  sure  that  they  cannot 
get  up,  no  matter  how  quick  they  are,  without  being  riddled.  The  only 
danger  lies  in  the  extreme  monotony  of  sitting  still  in  the  dark  guarding 
men  who  make  no  motion,  and  the  consequent  tendency  to  go  to  sleep, 
especially  when  one  has  had  a  hard  day's  work  and  is  feeling  really  tired. 
But  neither  on  the  first  night  nor  on  any  subsequent  one  did  we  ever  abate 
a  jot  of  our  watchfulness. 

Next  morning  we  started  down-stream,  having  a  well-laden  flotilla, 
for  the  men  we  had  caught  had  a  good  deal  of  plunder  in  their  boats, 
including  some  saddles,  as  they  evidently  intended  to  get  horses  as  soon 
as  they  reached  a  part  of  the  country  where  there  were  any,  and  where  it 
was  possible  to  travel.      Finnigan,  who  was  the  ringleader,  and  the  man  I 


SHERIFF'S   WORK    ON    A    RANCH 


123 


was  especially  after,  I  kept  by  my  side  in  our  boat,  the  other  two  being 
put  in  their  own  scow,  heavily  laden  and  rather  leaky,  and  with  only  one 
paddle.  We  kept  them  just  in  front  of  us,  a  few  yards  distant,  the  river 
being  so  broad  that  we  knew,  and  they  knew  also,  any  attempt  at  escape 
to  be  perfectly  hopeless. 

For  some  miles  we  went  swiftly  down-stream,  the  cold  being  bitter 
and  the  slushy  anchor  ice  choking  the  space  between  the  boats ;  then  the 
current  grew  sluggish,  eddies  forming  along  the  sides.  We  paddled  on 
until,  coming  into  a  long  reach  where  the  water  was  almost  backed  up, 
we  saw  there  was  a  stoppage  at  the  other  end.  Working  up  to  this,  it 
proved  to  be  a  small  ice  jam,  through  which  we  broke  our  way  only  to 
find  ourselves,  after  a  few  hundred  yards,  stopped  by  another.  We  had 
hoped  that  the  first  was  merely  a  jam  of  anchor  ice,  caused  by  the  cold  of 
the  last  few  days ;  but  the  jam  we  had  now  come  to  was  black  and  solid, 
and,  running  the  boats  ashore,  one  of  us  went  off  down  the  bank  to  find 
out  what  the  matter  was.  On  climbinof  a  hill  that  commanded  a  view  of 
the  valley  for  several  miles,  the  explanation  became  only  too  evident — as 
far  as  we  could  see,  the  river  was  choked  with  black  ice.  The  great 
Ox-bow  jam  had  stopped,  and  we  had  come  down  to  its  tail. 

We  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  pitch  camp,  after  which  we  held  a  con- 
sultation. The  Little  Missouri  has  much  too  swift  a  current, — when  it 
has  any  current  at  all, — with  too  bad  a  bottom,  for  it  to  be  possible  to 
take  a  boat  up-stream  ;  and  to  walk  meant,  of  course,  abandoning  almost 
all  we  had.  Moreover  we  knew  that  a  thaw  would  very  soon  start  the 
jam,  and  so  made  up  our  minds  that  we  had  best  simply  stay  where  we 
were,  and  work  down-stream  as  fast  as  we  could,  trusting  that  the  spell 
of  bitter  weather  would  pass  before  our  food  gave  out. 

The  next  eight  days  were  as  irksome  and  monotonous  as  any  I  ever 
spent :  there  is  very  little  amusement  in  combining  the  functions  of  a 
sheriff  with  those  of  an  arctic  explorer.  The  weather  kept  as  cold  as 
ever.  During  the  night  the  water  in  the  pail  would  freeze  solid.  Ice 
formed  all  over  the  river,  thickly  along  the  banks  ;  and  the  clear,  frosty 
sun  gave  us  so  little  warmth  that  the  melting  hardly  began  before  noon. 
Each  day  the  great  jam  would  settle  down-stream  a  few  miles,  only  to 
wedge  again,  leaving  behind  it  several  smaller  jams,  through  which  we 
would  work  our  way  until  we  were  as  close  to  the  tail  of  the  large  one 
as  we  dared  to  go.  Once  we  came  round  a  bend  and  got  so  near  that 
we  were  in  a  good  deal  of  danger  of  being  sucked  under.  The  current 
ran  too  fast  to  let  us  work  back  against  it,  and  we  could  not  pull  the  boat 
up  over  the  steep  banks  of  rotten  ice,  which  were  breaking  off  and  fall- 


1-4 


RANCH    LIFE    AND     THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


ing  in  all  the  time.  We  could  only  land  and  snub  the  boats  up  with 
ropes,  holding  them  there  for  two  or  three  hours  until  the  jam  worked 
down  once  more  —  all  the  time,  of  course,  having  to  keep  guard  over 
the  captives,  who  had  caused  us  so  much  trouble  that  w^e  were  bound  to 
bring  them  in,  no  matter  what  else  we  lost. 

W  e  had  to  be  additionally  cautious  on  account  of  being  in  the  Indian 
countrx ,  having  worked  down  past  Killdeer  Mountains,  where  some  of  my 
cowboys  had  run  across  a  band  of  Sioux — said  to  be  Tetons — the  year 
betore.  Very  probably  the  Indians  would  not  have  harmed  us  anyhow, 
but  as  we  were  hampered  by  the  prisoners,  we  preferred  not  meeting 
them  ;  nor  did  we,  though  we  saw  plenty  of  fresh  signs,  and  found,  to  our 
sorrow,  that  they  had  just  made  a  grand  hunt  all  down  the  river,  and  had 
killed  or  driven   off  almost  every  head  of  game  in  the  country  through 

which  we  were  passing. 

As  our  stock  of  provisions  grew  scant- 
ier and  scantier,  we  tried  in  vain  to  eke  it  out 
by  the  chase ;  for  we  saw  no  game.  Two  of 
us  would  go  out  hunting  at  a  time,  while  the 
third  kept  guard  over  the  prisoners.  The 
latter  would  be  made  to  sit  down  together 
on  a  blanket  at  one  side  of  the  fire,  wdiile 

the  guard  for 
the  time  being 
stood  or  sat 
some  fifteen  or 
twenty  yards 
off  The  pris- 
oners being  un- 
armed, and  kept 
close  together, 
there  was  no 
possibility  of 
their  escaping, 
and  the  guard 
kept  at  such  a 
distance  that  they  could  not  overpower  him  by  springing  on  him,  he  hav- 
ing a  Winchester  or  the  double-barreled  shot-gun  always  in  his  hands 
cocked  and  at  the  ready.  So  long  as  we  kept  wide-awake  and  watchful, 
there  was  not  the  least  danger,  as  our  three  men  knew^  us,  and  understood 
perfectly  that  the  slightest  attempt  at  a  break  would  result  in  their  being 


ON     GUARD    AT     NIGHT. 


SHERIFF'S   WORK    ON    A    RANCH  jt25 

shot  down  ;  but,  although  there  was  thus  no  risk,  it  was  harassing-,  tedious 
work,  and  the  strain,  day  in  and  day  out.  without  any  rest  or  let  up, 
became  very  tiresome. 

The  days  were  monotonous  to  a  degree.  The  endless  rows  of  hills 
bounding  the  valley,  barren  and  naked,  stretched  along  without  a  break. 
When  we  rounded  a  bend,  it  was  only  to  see  on  each  hand  the  same 
lines  of  broken  buttes  dwindling  off  into  the  distance  ahead  of  us  as 
they  had  dwindled  off  into  the  distance  behind.  If,  in  hunting,  we 
climbed  to  their  tops,  as  far  as  our  eyes  could  scan  there  was  nothing 
but  the  great  rolling  prairie,  bleak  and  lifeless,  reaching  off  to  the  horizon. 
We  broke  camp  in  the  morning,  on  a  point  of  land  covered  with  brown, 
leafless,  frozen  cottonwoods;  and  in  the  afternoon  we  pitched  camp  on 
another  point  in  the  midst  of  a  grove  of  the  same  stiff,  dreary  trees.  The 
discolored  river,  whose  eddies  boiled  into  yellow  foam,  flowed  always 
between  the  same  banks  of  frozen  mud  or  of  muddy  ice.  And  what  was, 
from  a  practical  standpoint,  even  worse,  our  diet  began  to  be  as  same  as 
the  scenery.  Being  able  to  kill  nothing,  we  exhausted  all  our  stock  of 
provisions,  and  got  reduced  to  flour,  without  yeast  or  baking-powder ;  and 
unleavened  bread,  made  with  exceedingly  muddy  water,  is  not,  as  a  steady 
thing,  attractive. 

Finding  that  they  were  well  treated  and  were  also  watched  with  the 
closest  vigilance,  our  prisoners  behaved  themselves  excellently  and  gave 
no  trouble,  though  afterward,  when  out  of  our  hands  and  shut  up  in  jail, 
the  half-breed  got  into  a  stabbing  affray.  They  conversed  freely  with  my 
two  men  on  a  number  of  indifferent  subjects,  and  after  the  first  evening  no 
allusion  was  made  to  the  theft,  or  anything  connected  with  it;  so  that  an 
outsider  overhearing  the  conversation  would  never  have  guessed  what  our 
relations  to  each  other  really  were.  Once,  and  once  only,  did  Finnigan 
broach  the  subject.  Somebody  had  been  speaking  of  a  man  whom  we  all 
knew,  called  "  Calamity,"  who  had  been  recently  taken  by  the  sheriff  on  a 
charge  of  horse-stealing.  Calamity  had  escaped  once,  but  was  caught  at 
a  disadvantage  the  next  time ;  nevertheless,  when  summoned  to  hold  his 
hands  up,  he  refused,  and  attempted  to  draw  his  own  revolver,  with  the 
result  of  having  two  bullets  put  through  him.  Finnigan  commented  on 
Calamity  as  a  fool  for  "not  knowing  when  a  man  had  the  drop  on  him  "  ; 
and  then,  suddenly  turning  to  me,  said,  his  weather-beaten  face  flushing 
darkly:  "  If  I  'd  had  any  show  at  all,  you  'd  have  sure  had  to  fight,  Mr. 
Roosevelt ;  but  there  was  n't  any  use  making  a  break  when  I  'd  only  have 
got  shot  myself,  with  no  chance  of  harming  any  one  else."  I  laughed 
and  nodded,  and  the  subject  was  dropped. 


126  RANCH    LIFE    AND     THE    HUN  IING-TRAIL 

Indeed,  if  the  time  was  tedious  to  us,  it  must  have  seemed  never-end- 
ing- to  our  prisoners,  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  He  still  and  read, 
or  chew  the  bitter  cud  of  their  reflections,  always  conscious  that  some  pair 
of  eyes  was  watching  them  every  moment,  and  that  at  least  one  loaded 
rifle  was  ever  ready  to  be  used  against  them.  They  had  quite  a  stock  of 
books,  some  of  a  rather  unexpected  kind.  Dime  novels  and  the  inevitable 
"  History  of  the  James  Brothers" — a  book  that,  together  with  the  "Police 
Gazette,"  is  to  be  found  in  the  hands  of  every  professed  or  putative  ruffian 
in  the  West  —  seemed  perfectly  in  place ;  but  it  was  somewhat  surprising 
to  find  that  a  large  number  of  more  or  less  drearily  silly  "society"  novels, 
ranging  from  Ouida's  to  those  of  The  Duchess  and  Augusta  J.  Evans,  were 
most  greedily  devoured.  As  for  me,  1  had  brought  with  me  "Anna  Karen - 
ina,"  and  my  surroundings  were  quite  gray  enough  to  harmonize  well 
with  Tolstoi. 

Our  commons  grew  shorter  and  shorter ;  and  finally  even  the  flour  was 
nearly  gone,  and  we  were  again  forced  to  think  seriously  of  abandoning 
the  boats.  The  Indians  had  driven  all  the  deer  out  of  the  country ; 
occasionally  we  shot  prairie  fowl,  but  they  were  not  plentiful.  A  flock  of 
geese  passed  us  one  morning,  and  afterward  an  old  gander  settled  down 
on  the  river  near  our  camp ;  but  he  was  over  two  hundred  yards  off,  and  a 
rifle-shot  missed  him.  Where  he  settled  down,  by  the  way,  the  river  was 
covered  with  thick  glare  ice  that  would  just  bear  his  weight ;  and  it  was 
curious  to  see  him  stretch  his  legs  out  in  front  and  slide  forty  or  fifty  feet 
when  he  struck,  balancing  himself  with  his  outspread  wings. 

But  w^hen  the  day  was  darkest  the  dawn  appeared.  At  last,  having 
worked  down  some  thirty  miles  at  the  tail  of  the  ice  jam,  we  struck  an 
outlying  cow-camp  of  the  C  Diamond  (C  O)  ranch,  and  knew  that  our 
troubles  were  almost  over.  There  was  but  one  cowboy  in  it,  but  w^e  were 
certain  of  his  cordial  help,  for  in  a  stock  country  all  make  common  cause 
against  either  horse-thieves  or  cattle-thieves.  He  had  no  wagon,  but  told 
us  we  could  get  one  up  at  a  ranch  near  Killdeer  Mountains,  some  fifteen 
miles  off,  and  lent  me  a  pony  to  go  up  there  and  see  about  it  —  which  I 
accordingly  did,  after  a  sharp  preliminary  tussle  when  I  came  to  mount 
the  wiry  bronco  (one  of  my  men  remarking  in  a  loud  aside  to  our  cowboy 
host,  "the  boss  ain't  no  bronco-buster ").  When  I  reached  the  solitary 
ranch  spoken  of,  I  was  able  to  hire  a  large  prairie  schooner  and  two 
tough  little  bronco  mares,  driven  by  the  settler  himself,  a  rugged  old 
plainsman,  who  evidently  could  hardly  understand  why  I  took  so  much 
bother  wath  the  thieves  instead  of  hanging  them  off-hand.  Returning  to 
the  river  the  next  day,  we  walked  our  men  up  to  the  Killdeer  Mountains. 


SHERIFF'S    WORK    ON    A    RANCH 


12 


Seawall  and  Dow  left  me  the  followinsf  mornin":,  went  back  to  the  boats, 
and  had  no  further  difficulty,  for  the  weather  set  in  very  warm,  the  ice 
went  through  with  a  rush,  and  they  reached  Mandan  in  about  ten  days, 
killing  four  beaver  and  five  geese  on  the  way,  but  lacking  time  to  stop  to 
do  any  regular  hunting. 


"A    SHARi'    PRKLI.MINAKV     1  Ui.SLE. 


Meanwhile  I  took  the  three  thieves  into  Dickinson,  the  nearest  town. 
The  going  was  bad,  and  the  little  mares  could  only  drag  the  wagon  at  a 
walk ;  so,  though  we  drove  during  the  daylight,  it  took  us  two  days  and  a 
night  to  make  the  journey.  It  was  a  most  desolate  drive.  The  prairie 
had  been  burned  the  fall  before,  and  was  a  mere  bleak  waste  of  blackened 
earth,  and  a  cold,  rainy  mist  lasted  throughout  the  two  days.  The  only 
variety  was  where  the  road  crossed  the  shallow  headwaters  of  Knife  and 
Green  rivers.  Here  the  ice  was  hio^h  alongf  the  banks,  and  the  waeon  had 
to  be  taken  to  pieces  to  get  it  over.  My  three  captives  were  unarmed,  but 
as  I  was  alone  with  them,  except  for  the  driver,  of  whom  I  knew  nothing, 
I  had  to  be  doubly  on  my  guard,  and  never  let  them  come  close  to  me. 
The  little  mares  went  so  slowly,  and  the  heavy  road  rendered  any  hope  of 
escape  by  flogging  up  the  horses  so  entirely  out  of  the  question,  that  I 


128 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


soon  found  the  safest  plan  was  to  put  the  prisoners  in  the  wagon  and 
myself  walk  behind  with  the  inevitable  Winchester.  Accordingly  1  trudged 
steadily  the  whole  time  behind  the  wagon   through   the  ankle-deep  mud. 


ON    THE    ROAD    TO    DICKINSON. 


It  was  a  gloomy  walk.  Hour  after  hour  went  by  always  the  same,  while 
I  plodded  along  through  the  dreary  landscape  —  hunger,  cold,  and  fatigue 
struggling  with  a  sense  of  dogged,  weary  resolution.  At  night,  when  we 
put  up  at  the  squalid  hut  of  a  frontier  granger,  the  only  habitation  on  our 
road,  it  was  even  worse.  I  did  not  dare  to  go  to  sleep,  but  making  my 
three  men  get  into  the  upper  bunk,  from  which  they  could  get  out  only 
with  difficulty,  I  sat  up  with  my  back  against  the  cabin-door  and  kept 
watch  over  them  all  night  long.  So,  after  thirty-six  hours'  sleeplessness, 
I  was  most  heartily  glad  when  we  at  last  jolted  into  the  long,  straggling 
main  street  of  Dickinson,  and  I  was  able  to  give  my  unwilling  companions 
into  the  hands  of  the  sheriff. 

Under  the  laws  of  Dakota  I  received  my  fees  as  a  deputy  sheriff  for 
making  the  three  arrests,  and  also  mileage  for  the  three  hundred  odd  miles 
gone  over — a  total  of  some  fifty  dollars.* 

*  One  of  the  men  wrote  me  from  prison,  giving  me  his  reasons  for  taking  the  boat.  Part  of 
his  letter  is  worth  giving,  not  only  because  it  contains  his  own  story,  but  also  for  the  sake  of  the  deli- 


SHERIFF'S   WORK    ON    A    RANCH 


129 


cious  sense  of  equality  shown  in  the  last  few  sentences.  He  had  been  explaining  that  he  believed  1 
had  accused  him  of  stealing  some  saddles:  "  In  the  lirst  place  I  did  not  take  your  boat  Mr.  Roosevelt 
because  I  wanted  to  steal  something,  no  indeed,  when  1  took  that  vessel  I  was  labouring  under  the 

impression,  die  dog  or  eat  the  hachette When  I  was  a  couple  of  miles  above  your  ranch  the 

boat  I  had  sprung  a  leak  and  I  saw  that  I  could  not  make  the  Big  Missouri  in  it  in  the  shape  that  it 
was  in.  I  thought  of  asking  assistance  of  you,  but  I  supposed  that  you  had  lost  some  saddles  and 
blamed  me  for  taking  them.  Now  there  I  was  wiih  a  leaky  boat  and  under  the  circumstances  what 
was  I  two  do,  two  ask  you  for  help,  the  answer  I  expected  two  get  was  two  look  down  the  mouth  of 
a  Winchester.  I  saw  your  boat  and  made  up  my  mind  two  get  possession  of  it.  I  was  bound  two 
get  out  of  that  country  cost  what  it  might,  when  people  talk  lynch  law  and  threaten  a  persons  life,  I 
think  that  it  is  about  time  two  leave.       I  did  not  want  to  go  back  up  river  on  the  account  that  I 

feared  a  mob I  have  read  a  good  many  of  your  sketches  of  ranch  life  in  the  papers  since 

I  have  been  here,  and  they  interested  me  deeply. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 
"&c. 
"P.    S.      Should  you  stop  over  at  Bismarck  this  fall  make  a  call  to  the  Prison.    I  should  be  glad 
to  meet  you." 


A    lEXAN    COWBOY. 


Ai\    AGENCY    POLICKMA.N. 


THE  RANCHMAN'S  RIFLE  ON  CRAG 
AND  PRAIRIE 


IX 


The  Ranchman's  Rifle  on  Crag  and  Prairie 

% 


*HE  ranchman  owes  to  his  rifle   not  only  the  keen 


pleasure  and  strong  excitement  of  the  chase,  but  also 
much  of  his  bodily  comfort;  for,  save  for  his  prowess 
g  as  a  hunter  and  his  skill  as  a  marksman  with  this,  his 
favorite  weapon,  he  would  almost  always  be  sadly 
stinted  for  fresh  meat.  Now  that  the  buffalo  have  gone,  and  the  Sharps 
rifle  by  which  they  were  destroyed  is  also  gone,  almost  all  ranchmen 
use  some  form  of  repeater.  Personally  I  prefer  the  Winchester,  using 
the  new  model,  with  a  45 -caliber  bullet  of  300  grains,  backed  by  90 
grains  of  powder,  or  else  falling  back  on  my  faithful  old  stand-by, 
the  45-75.  But  the  truth  is  that  all  good  modern  rifles  are  efficient 
weapons;  it  is  the  man  behind  the  gun  that  makes  the  difference.  An 
inch  or  two  in  trajectory  or  a  second  or  two  in  rapidity  of  fire  is  as  noth- 
ing compared  to  sureness  of  eye  and  steadiness  of  hand. 

From  April  to  August  antelope  are  the  game  we  chiefly  follow,  killing- 
only  the  bucks ;  after  that  season,  black-tail  and  white-tail  deer.  Now  and 
then  we  get  a  chance  at  mountain  sheep,  and  more  rarely  at  larger  game 
still.  As  a  rule,  I  never  shoot  anything  but  bucks.  But  in  the  rutting 
season,  when  the  bucks'  flesh  is  poor,  or  when  we  need  to  lay  in  a  good  stock 
of  meat  for  the  winter,  this  rule  of  course  must  be  broken. 

The  smoked  venison  stored  away  in  the  fall  lasts  us  through  the  bitter 
weather,  as  well  as  through  the  even  less  attractive  period  covering  the 
first  weeks  of  spring.  At  that  time  we  go  out  as  little  as  possible.  The 
roads  are  mere  morasses,  crusted  after  nightfall  with  a  shell  of  thin  ice, 
through  which  the  shaggy  horses  break  heavily.  Walking  is  exceedingly 
tiresome,  the  boots  becoming  caked  with  masses  of  adhesive  clay.  The 
deer  stay  with  us  all  the  time;  but  they  are  now  in  poor  condition,  the 
does  heavy  with  fawn  and  the  bucks  with  ungrown  antlers. 


1^2  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNT  INC. -TRAIL 

Antelope  gather  together  in  great  bands  in  the  fall,  and  either  travel 
south,  leaving  the  country  altogether,  or  else  go  to  some  out-of-the-way 
place  where  the)-  are  not  likely  to  be  disturbed.  Antelope  are  queer, 
freaky  beasts,  and  it  is  hard  to  explain  why,  when  most  of  these  great 
bands  go  off  south,  one  or  two  always  stay  in  the  Bad  Lands.  Such  a 
band  liaving  chosen  its  wintering  ground,  which  is  usually  in  a  valley 
or  on  a  range  of  wide  plateaus,  will  leave  it  only  with  great  reluctance, 
and  if  it  is  discovered  by  hunters  most  of  its  members  will  surely  be 
butchered  before  the  survivors  are  willing  to  abandon  the  place  and  seek 
new  quarters. 

In  April  the  prong-horned  herds  come  back,  but  now  all  broken  up 
into  straggling  parties.  They  have  regular  passes,  through  which  they 
go  every  year:  there  is  one  such  not  far  from  my  ranch,  where  they  are 
certain  to  cross  the  Little  Missouri  in  great  numbers  each  spring  on  their 
return  march.  In  the  fall,  when  they  are  traveling  in  dense  crowds, 
hunters  posted  in  these  passes  sometimes  butcher  enormous  numbers. 

Soon  after  they  come  back  in  the  spring  they  scatter  out  all  over  the 
plains,  and  for  four  months  after  their  return  —  that  is,  until  August — they 
are  the  game  we  chiefly  follow.  This  is  because  at  that  time  we  only 
hunt  enough  to  keep  the  ranch  in  fresh  meat,  and  kill  nothing  but  the 
bucks  ;  and  as  antelope,  though  they  shed  their  horns,  are  without  them 
for  but  a  very  short  time,  and  as,  moreover,  they  are  always  seen  at  a 
distance,  it  is  easy  to  tell  the  sexes  apart. 

Antelope  shooting  is  the  kind  in  which  a  man  most  needs  skill  in  the 
use  of  the  rijle  at  long  ranges ;  for  they  are  harder  to  get  near  than  any 
other  game — partly  from  their  wariness,  and  still  more  from  the  nature 
of  the  ground  they  inhabit.  Many  more  cartridges  are  spent,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  amount  of  game  killed,  in  hunting  antelope  than  is  the  case 
while  after  deer,  elk,  or  sheep.  Even  good  hunters  reckon  on  using 
six  or  seven  cartridges  for  every  prong-horn  that  they  kill ;  for  antelope 
are  continually  offering  standing  shots  at  very  long  distances,  which,  nev- 
ertheless, it  is  a  great  temptation  to  try,  on  the  chance  of  luck  favoring 
the  marksman.  Moreover,  alone  among  plains'  game,  they  must  gen- 
erally be  shot  at  over  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  and  often  at  between 
two  and  three  hundred.  Over  this  distance  a  man  will  kill  occasion- 
ally,—  I  have  done  so  myself, — but  at  such  long  range  it  is  mainly  a  mat- 
ter of  accident.  The  best  field-shot  alive  lacks  a  good  deal  of  always 
killing,  if  the  distance  is  much  over  two  hundred  yards ;  and  with  every 
increase  beyond  that  amount,  the  chances  of  failure  augment  in  geometri- 
cal proportion.      Exceptional  individuals  perform  marvelous  feats  with  the 


THE    RANCHMAN'S    RIFLE    ON    CRAG   AND    PRAIRIE 


^33 


rifle,  exactly  as  still  more  exceptional  individuals  perform  marvelous  feats 
with  the  revolver ;  but  even  these  men,  when  they  have  to  guess  their 
distances,  miss  very  often  when  firing  at  game  three  hundred  yards,  or 
thereabouts,  distant. 

As  in  all  other  kinds  of  big-game  shooting,  success  in  hunting  ante- 
lope often  depends  upon  sheer,  downright  luck.  A  man  may  make  a 
week's  trip  over  good  ground  and  get  nothing;  and  then  again  he  may 
go  to  the  same  place  and  in  two  days  kill  a  wagon-load  of  venison. 

In  the  fall  the  prairie  fires  ravage  the  land,  for  at  the  close  of  sum- 
mer the  matted,  sun-dried  grass  burns  like  tinder,  and  the  fires  are  some- 
times so  numerous  as  to  cover  whole  counties  beneath  a  pall  of  smoke, 
while  at  night  they  look  very  grand,  burning  in  curved  lines  of  wavering 
flame,  now  advancing  fastest  at  one  point,  now  at  another,  as  if  great  red 
snakes  were  writhing  sideways  across  the  prairie.  The  land  across  which 
they  have  run  remains  a  blackened,  charred  waste  until  the  young  grass 
begins  to  sprout  in  the  spring.  The  short,  tender  blades  at  once  change 
the  cinder-colored  desert  into  a  bright  emerald  plain,  and  are  so  much 
more  toothsome  than  the  dry,  withered  winter  grass  that  both  stock  and 
game  forsake  the  latter  and  travel  out  to  the  tracts  of  burned  land.  The 
feed  on  these  places  is  too  sparse  to  support,  of  itself,  horses  or  cattle, 
who  accordingly  do  not  penetrate  far  beyond  the  edges;  but  antelope  are 
like  sheep,  and  prefer  scanty,  short  herbage,  and  in  consequence  at  this 
time  fairly  swarm  in  the  burned  districts.  Indeed,  they  are  sometimes  so 
numerous  that  they  can  hardly  be  stalked,  as  it  is  impossible  to  approach 
any  animal  without  being  seen  by  some  of  its  countless  comrades,  which 
at  once  run  off  and  give  the  alarm. 

While  on  these  early  spring  trips  we  sometimes  vary  the  sport,  and 
our  fare  as  well,  by  trying  our  rifles  on  the  mallards  in  the  reedy  sloughs, 
or  on  the  jack  rabbits  as  they  sit  up  on  their  haunches  to  look  at  us, 
eighty  or  a  hundred  yards  off  Now  and  then  we  creep  up  to  and  kill  the 
cock  prairie  fowl,  when  they  have  gathered  into  their  dancing  rings  to 
posture  with  outstretched  neck  and  outspread  wings  as  they  shuffle 
round  each  other,  keeping  up  a  curious  clucking  and  booming  that  accord 
well  with  their  grotesque  attitudes. 

Late  in  the  season  any  one  of  us  can  usually  get  antelope  in  a  day's 
hunt  from  the  ranch  by  merely  riding  off  alone,  with  a  good  hunting 
horse,  to  a  great  tract  of  broken,  mound-dotted  prairie  some  fifteen  miles 
off,  where  the  prong-horns  are  generall}^  abundant. 

On  such  a  trip  I  leave  the  ranch  house  by  dawn,  the  rifle  across  my 
saddle-bow,  and  some  strips  of  smoked  venison  in  the  saddle-pockets.     In 


T  ,  ,  RAN'CH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

the  cool  air  the  horse  lopes  smartly  through  the  wooded  bottoms.  The 
meadow-larks,  with  black  crescents  on  their  yellow  breasts,  sing  all  day 
long,  but  the  thrushes  only  in  the  morning  and  evening ;  and  their  melody 
is  heard  at  its  best  on  such  a  ride  as  this.  By  the  time  I  get  out  of  the 
last  ravines  and  canter  along  the  divide,  the  dark  bluff-tops  in  the  east 
have  begun  to  redden  in  the  sunrise,  while  in  the  flushed  west  the  hills 
stand  out  against  a  rosy  sky.  The  sun  has  been  up  some  little  time 
before  the  hunting-grounds  are  fairly  reached;  for  the  antelope  stands 
alone  in  being  a  diurnal  game  animal  that  from  this  peculiarity,  as  well  as 
from  the  nature  of  its  haunts,  can  be  hunted  as  well  at  midday  as  at  any 
other  hour.  Arrived  at  the  hunting-grounds  I  generally,  but  not  ahvays, 
dismount  and  hunt  on  foot,  leaving  the  horse  tethered  out  to  graze. 

Lunch  is  taken  at  some  spring,  which  may  be  only  a  trickle  of  water 
at  the  base  of  a  butte,  where  a  hole  must  be  dug  out  with  knife  and  hands 
before  the  horse  can  drink.  Once  or  twice  I  have  enjoyed  unusual  deli- 
cacies at  such  a  lunch,  in  the  shape  of  the  eggs  of  curlew  or  prairie  fowl 
baked  in  the  hot  ashes. 

The  day  is  spent  in  still-hunting,  a  much  easier  task  among  the  ridges 
and  low  hills  than  out  on  the  gently  rolling  prairies.  Antelope  see  much 
better  than  deer,  their  great  bulging  eyes,  placed  at  the  roots  of  the  horns, 
being  as  strong  as  twin  telescopes.  Extreme  care  must  be  taken  not  to 
let  them  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  intruder,  for  it  is  then  hopeless  to  attempt 
approaching  them.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  never  the  least  difficulty 
about  seeing  them  ;  for  they  are  conspicuous  beasts,  and,  unlike  deer,  they 
never  hide^  being  careless  whether  they  are  seen  or  not,  so  long  as  they 
can  keep  a  good  lookout.  They  trust  only  to  their  own  alert  watchfulness 
and  quick  senses  for  safety.  The  game  is  carried  home  behind  the  saddle ; 
and  the  bottom  on  which  the  ranch  house  stands  is  not  often  reached  until 
the  moon,  showing  crimson  through  the  haze,  has  risen  above  the  bluffs 
that  skirt  the  river. 

Antelope  are  very  tough,  and  will  carry  off  a  great  deal  of  lead  unless 
struck  in  exactly  the  right  place ;  and  even  when  mortally  hit  they  some- 
times receive  the  blow  without  flinching,  and  gallop  off  as  if  unharmed. 
They  always  should  be  followed  up  a  little  distance  after  being  fired  at,  as 
if  unhurt.  Sometimes  they  show  the  rather  curious  trait  of  walking  back- 
wards a  number  of  steps  just  before  falling  in  death. 

Although  ordinarily  harder  to  get  at  than  deer,  they  are  far  more  fre- 
quently killed  in  what  may  be  called  accidental  ways.  At  times  they  seem 
to  be  heedless  of  danger,  and  they  suffer  from  occasional  panic  fits  of  fear 
or  curiosity,   when  it  is  no  feat  at  all  to  slay  them.      Hunters   can  thus 


THE    RANCHMAN'S    RIFLE    ON    CRAG   AND    PRAIRIE 


35 


h"-    li'^--V'-V^'  ^     -^//^)%/  y-^^^(^     ^H^.,n^tar^ 


'-^^ 


— -s-^f/l- 


'■\ 


occasionally  rake  very  large  bags  of  antelope,  but  a  true  sportsman  who 
only  shoots  for  peculiarly  fine  trophies,  or  to  supply  the  ranch  table,  will 
not  commit  such  needless  butcheries.  Often  accidents  have  thrown  it 
into  my  power  to  make  a  big  killing ;  but  the  largest  number  I  have  ever 
shot  was  on  one  day  when  I  bagged  four,  all  bucks,  and  then  we  were 
sorely  in  need  of  fresh  meat,  and  it  was  an  object  to  get  as  much  as  possible. 
This  day's  shooting  was  peculiar  because  it  took  place  during  a  heavy 
rain  storm,  which,  taken  in  connection  with  my  own  remarkable  costume, 
apparently  made  the  animals  act  with  less  than  their  usual  shyness.  I  wore 
a  great  flapping  yellow  slicker,  or  oilskin  overcoat,  about  as  unlikely  a 
garb  as  a  hunter  could  possibly  don  ;   but  it  seemed  to  fascinate  the  game. 


J. 5  RAXCH    LIFE    AXD    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

for  more  than  once  a  band  hiRlelleel  up  and  stood  g-azing  at  me,  while  I 
clambered  awkwardly  off  the  horse.  The  cold  rain  numbed  my  hng-ers 
and  beat  into  my  eyes,  and  I  was  hampered  by  the  coat ;  so  1  wasted  a 
o-ood  many  cartridges  to  get  my  tour  head. 

In  some  places  they  now  seem  to  have  learned  wisdom,  for  the  slaughter 
among  them  has  been  so  prodigious  that  the  survdvors  have  radically 
chansjed  their  character.  Their  senses  are  as  keen  as  ever,  and  their 
wits  much  keener.  They  no  longer  give  way  to  bursts  of  panic  curiosity  ; 
they  cannot  be  attracted  by  any  amount  of  flagging,  or  by  the  appearance 
of  unknown  objects,  as  formerly.  Where  they  are  still  common,  as  with 
us.  they  refuse,  under  any  stress  of  danger,  to  enter  woodland  or  thickets, 
but  keep  to  the  flat  or  broken  plains  and  the  open  prairies,  which  they 
have  from  time  immemorial  inhabited.  But  elsewhere  their  very  nature 
seems  to  have  altered.  They  have  not  only  learned  to  climb  and  take  to 
the  hills,  but,  what  is  even  more  singular,  have  intruded  on  the  domain  of 
the  elk  and  the  deer,  frequently  making  their  abode  in  the  thick  timber, 
and  there  proving  the  most  difficult  of  all  animals  to  stalk. 

In  INIay  and  June  the  little  antelope  kids  appear:  funny  little  fellows, 
odd  and  ungainly,  but  at  an  astonishingly  early  age  able  to  run  nearly  as 
fast  as  their  parents.  They  will  lie  very  close  if  they  think  that  they  are 
unobserved.  Once  several  of  us  were  driving  in  a  herd  of  cattle  while  on 
the  round-up.  The  cattle,  traveling  in  loose  order,  were  a  few  paces  ahead, 
when,  happening  to  cast  down  my  eyes,  I  saw,  right  among  their  hoofs,  a 
little  antelope  kid.  It  was  lying  flat  down  with  outstretched  neck,  and  did 
not  move,  although  some  of  the  cattle  almost  stepped  on  it.  I  reined  up, 
o-ot  off  my  horse,  and  lifted  it  in  my  arms.  At  first  it  gave  two  or  three  con- 
vulsive struggles,  bleating  sharply,  then  became  perfectly  passive,  stand- 
ing quietly  by  me  for  a  minute  or  two  when  I  put  it  down,  after  which  it 
suddenly  darted  off  like  a  flash.  These  litde  antelope  kids  are  very  easily 
tamed,  being  then  very  familiar,  amusing,  and  inquisitive  —  much  more  so 
than  deer  fawns,  though  they  are  not  so  pretty.  Within  a  few  days  of  their 
birth  they  stop  seeking  protection  in  hiding  and  adopt  the  habits  of  their 
parents,  following  them  everywhere,  or  going  off  on  their  own  account, 
being  almost  as  swift,  although,  of  course,  not  nearly  so  enduring. 

Three  of  us  witnessed  a  rather  curious  incident  last  spring,  showing 
how  little  the  bringing  forth  of  a  fawn  affects  the  does  of  either  deer  or 
antelope.  We  were  walking  through  a  patch  of  low  brushwood,  when  up 
got  a  black-tail  doe  and  went  off  at  full  speed.  At  the  second  jump  she 
gave  birth  to  a  fawn  ;  but  this  did  not  alter  her  speed  in  the  least,  and  she 
ran  off  quite  as  well  and  as  fast  as  ever.     We  walked  up  to  where  she  had 


THE    RANCHMAN'S    RIFLE    ON    CRAG    AND    PRAIRIE  137 

been  lying'  and  found  in  her  bed  another  fawn,  evidently  but  a  few  seconds 
old.  We  left  the  two  sprawling-,  unlicked  little  creatures  where  they  were, 
knowing  that  the  mother  would  soon  be  back  to  care  for  them. 

Although  sometimes  we  go  out  to  the  antelope  ground  and  back  in 
one  day,  yet  it  is  always  more  convenient  to  take  the  buckboard  with  us 
and  spend  the  night,  camping  by  a  water  hole  in  one  of  the  creeks.  The 
last  time  we  took  such  a  trip  I  got  lost,  and  nearly  spent  the  night  in  the 
open,  I  had  been  riding  with  one  of  my  cowboys,  while  another  acted  as 
teamster  and  drove  the  buckboard  and  pair.  We  killed  two  antelope  and 
went  into  camp  rather  early.  After  taking  dinner  and  picketing  out  the 
four  horses  we  found  it  still  lacked  an  hour  or  two  of  sunset,  and  accord- 
ingly my  companions  and  I  started  out  on  foot,  leaving  our  teamster  in 
camp,  and  paying  no  particular  heed  to  our  surroundings.  We  saw  a  herd 
of  prong-horn  and  wounded  one,  which  we  followed  in  vain  until  dusk, 
and  then  started  to  go  back  to  camp.  Very  soon  we  found  that  we  had 
quite  a  task  before  us,  for  in  the  dim  starlight  all  the  hollows  looked 
exactly  alike,  and  the  buttes  seemed  either  to  have  changed  form  entirely 
or  else  loomed  up  so  vaguely  through  the  darkness  that  we  could  not 
place  them  in  the  least.  We  walked  on  and  on  until  we  knew  that  we 
must  be  far  past  the  creek,  or  coulee,  where  our  camp  lay,  and  then 
turned  towards  the  divide.  The  night  had  grown  steadily  darker,  and 
we  could  hear  the  far-off  mutter  and  roll  that  told  of  an  approaching 
thunder-storm.  Hour  after  hour  we  trudged  wearily  on,  as  fast  as  we 
could  ofo  without  stumblino-  the  orloom  and  the  routrhness  of  the  unknown 
ground  proving  serious  drawbacks  to  our  progress.  When  on  the  top 
of  a  hillock,  the  blackness  of  the  hollow  beneath  was  so  intense  that  w^e 
could  not  tell  whether  we  were  going  to  walk  down  a  slope  or  over  a  cliff, 
and  in  consequence  we  met  with  one  or  two  tumbles.  At  last  we  reached 
the  top  of  a  tall  butte  that  we  knew  must  be  on  the  divide.  The  night 
was  now  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  we  were  so  entirely  unable  to  tell  where 
we  were  that  we  decided  to  give  up  the  quest  in  despair  and  try  to 
find  some  washout  that  would  yield  us  at  least  partial  shelter  from  the 
approaching  rain  storm.  We  had  fired  off  our  rifles  several  times  without 
getting  any  response;  but  now,  as  we  took  one  last  look  around,  we  sud- 
denly saw  a  flash  of  light,  evidently  from  a  gun,  flare  up  through  the 
darkness  so  far  off  that  no  sound  came  to  our  ears.  We  trotted  towards 
it  as  fast  as  we  could  through  the  inky  gloom,  and  wdien  no  longer  sure 
of  our  direction  climbed  a  little  hill,  fired  off  our  rifles,  and  after  a  min- 
ute or  two  again  saw  the  guiding  flash.  The  next  time  we  had  occasion 
to  signal,  the  answering  blaze  was  accompanied  by  a  faint   report ;   and 


I3S 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


in  a  few  minutes  more,  when  it  was  close  on  midnight,  we  were  warm- 
ing" our  hands  at  the  great  camp-fire,  and  hungrily  watching  the  venison 
steaks  as  they  sizzled  in  the  frying-pan. 

The  morning  after  this  adventure  I  shot  an  antelope  before  breakfast. 
\\*e  had  just  risen,  and  while  sitting  round  the  smoldering  coals,  listen- 


A    PRONG-HORN    BUCK    VISITS    CAMP. 


ing  to  the  simmering  of  the  camp-kettle  and  the  coffee-pot,  we  suddenly 
caught  sight  of  a  large  prong-horn  buck  that  was  walking  towards  us 
over  the  hill-crest  nearly  half  a  mile  away.  He  stopped  and  stared  fix- 
edly at  us  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  resumed  his  course  at  a  leisurely 
trot,  occasionally  stopping  to  crop  a  mouthful  of  grass,  and  paying  no 
further  heed  to  us.  His  course  was  one  that  w^ould  lead  him  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  camp,  and,  grasping  my  rifle,  I  slipped  off  as  soon  as 
he  was  out  of  sight  and  ran  up  over  the  bluff  to  intercept  him.  Just  as 
I  reached  the  last  crest  I  saw  the  buck  crossing  in  front  of  me  at  a  walk, 
and  almost  two  hundred  yards  off.  I  knelt,  and,  as  he  halted  and  turned 
his  head  sharply  towards  me,  pulled  trigger.  It  was  a  lucky  shot,  and  he 
fell  over,  with  his  back  broken.  He  had  very  unusually  good  horns;  as 
fine  as  those  of  any  of  his  kind  that  I  ever  killed. 

Antelope   often   suffer   from    such   freaks   of  apathetic   indifference   to 


THE    RANCHMAN'S   RIFLE    ON    CRAG    AND    PRAIRIE  139 

danger,  which  are  doubly  curious  as  existing  in  an  animal  normall)-  as 
wary  as  that  wildest  of  game,  the  mountain  sheep.  They  are  fond  of 
wandering  too,  and  appear  at  times  in  very  unlikely  places.  Thus  once, 
while  we  were  building  the  cow  corral,  in  an  open  bottom,  five  antelope 
came  down.  After  much  snorting  and  stamping,  they  finally  approached 
to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  men  who  were  at  work,  and,  as  the  latter  had 
no  weapons  with  them,  retired  unmolested. 

In  winter  the  great  herds  consist  of  the  two  sexes;  and  this  is  true  also 
of  the  straggling  parties  that  come  back  to  us  in  spring,  soon  to  split  up 
into  smaller  ones.  During  early  summer  the  males  may  be  found  singly, 
or  else  three  or  four  together,  with  possibly  a  barren  doe  or  two;  while 
two  or  three  does,  with  their  kids,  and  perhaps  the  last  year's  young,  will 
form  the  nucleus  of  a  little  flock  by  themselves.  With  the  coming  of  the 
rutting  season  they  divide  into  regular  bands,  for  they  are  polygamous. 
Every  large,  powerful  buck  gathers  his  little  group  of  does,  driving  out 
all  his  rivals,  though  perhaps  a  yearling  buck  or  two  will  hang  round  the 
outskirts  at  a  respectful  distance,  every  now  and  then  rousing  the  older 
one  to  a  fit  of  jealous  impatience.  More  often  the  young  bucks  go 
in  small  parties  by  themselves,  while  those  older  ones  that  have  been 
driven  out  by  their  successful  rivals  wander  round  singly.  The  old  bucks 
are  truculent  and  courageous,  and  do  fierce  battle  with  each  other  until  it 
is  evident  which  is  master,  when  the  defeated  combatant  makes  off  at  top 
speed.  One  of  these  beaten  bucks  will  occasionally  get  hold  of  a  single 
doe,  whom  he  promptly  appropriates  and  guards  with  extreme  watchful- 
ness ;  and,  not  being  overconfident  in  his  own  prowess,  drives  her  off 
very  rapidly  if  any  other  antelope  show  signs  of  coming  near.  A  success- 
ful buck  may  have  from  four  or  five  to  ten  or  fifteen  does  in  his  harem. 
In  such  a  band  there  is  always  an  old  doe  that  acts  as  leader,  precisely 
as  with  deer  and  elk.  This  doe  is  ever  on  the  alert,  is  most  likely  to  take 
the  alarm  at  the  approach  of  danger,  and  always  leads  the  flight.  The 
buck,  however,  is  prompt  to  take  command,  if  he  sees  fit,  or  deems  that 
the  doe's  fears  have  overpowered  her  judgment ;  and  frequently,  when  a 
band  is  in  full  flight,  the  buck  may  be  seen  deliberately  to  round  it  up  and 
stop  it,  so  that  he  may  gaze  on  the  cause  of  the  alarm — a  trait  the  exer- 
cise of  which  often  costs  him  his  life.  The  bucks  occasionally  bully  the 
does  unmercifully,  if  they  show  symptoms  of  insubordination.  Individual 
antelope  vary  very  widely  in  speed.  Once  I  fairly  rode  one  down,  but  this 
is  generally  an  almost  impossible  feat.  Among  deer,  the  fat,  heavy  ant- 
lered  bucks  are  usually  slower  than  the  does  and  the  young  males;  but 
there  seems  to  be  little  difference  of  this  sort  among  prong-horns. 

With  the  first  touch  of  sharp  fall  weather  we  abandon  the  chase  of  the 


l_|0  RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAH. 

antelope  for  that  oi'  the  deer.  Then  our  favorite  quarry  is  the  noble  black- 
tail,  whose  haunts  are  in  the  mountains  and  the  high,  craggy  hills.  We 
kill  him  by  fair  still-hunting,  and  to  follow  him  successfully  through  the 
deep  ravines  and  across  the  steep  ridges  of  his  upland  home  a  man  should 
be  sound  in  wind  and  limbs,  and  a  good  shot  with  the  rifle  as  well.  Many 
a  glorious  fall  morning  1  have  passed  in  his  pursuit ;  often,  moreover,  I 
have  slain  him  in  the  fading  evening  as  I  walked  homeward  through  the 
still  dim  twilight — for  all  wild  game  dearly  love  the  gloaming. 

Once  on  a  frosty  evening  I  thus  killed  one  when  it  was  so  dark  that 
mv  aim  was  little  but  guess-work.  I  was  walking  back  to  camp  through 
a  winding  valley,  hemmed  in  by  steep  cedar-crowned  walls  of  clay  and 
rock.  All  the  landscape  glimmered  white  with  the  new-fallen  snow,  and 
in  the  west  the  sky  was  still  red  with  the  wintry  sunset.  Suddenly  a 
ereat  buck  came  out  of  a  erove  of  snow-laden  cedars,  and  walked  with 
swift  strides  up  to  the  point  of  a  crag  that  overlooked  the  valley.  There 
he  stood  motionless  while  I  crouched  unseen  in  the  shadow  beneath.  As 
I  fired  he  reared  upright  and  then  plunged  over  the  cliff  He  fell  a  hun- 
dred feet  before  landing  in  the  bushes,  yet  he  did  not  gash  or  mar  his 
finely  molded  head  and  shapely,  massive  antlers. 

On  one  of  the  last  days  I  hunted,  in  November,  1887,  I  killed  two 
black-tail,  a  doe  and  a  buck,  with  one  bullet.  They  were  feeding  in  a  glen 
high  up  the  side  of  some  steep  hills,  and  by  a  careful  stalk  over  rough 
o-round  I  got  within  fifty  yards.  Peering  over  the  brink  of  the  cliff-like 
slope  up  which  I  had  clambered,  I  saw  them  standing  in  such  a  position 
that  the  neck  of  the  doe  covered  the  buck's  shoulder.  The  chance  was 
too  tempting  to  be  lost.  My  bullet  broke  the  doe's  neck,  and  of  course 
she  fell  where  she  was ;  but  the  buck  went  off,  my  next  two  or  three  shots 
missing  him.  However,  we  followed  his  bloody  trail,  through  the  high 
pass  he  had  crossed,  down  a  steep  slope,  and  roused  him  from  the  brush- 
wood in  a  valley  bottom.  He  soon  halted  and  lay  down  again,  making 
off  at  a  faltering  gallop  when  approached,  and  the  third  time  we  came  up 
to  him  he  was  too  weak  to  rise.      He  had  splendid  antlers. 

Sometimes  we  kill  the  deer  by  the  aid  of  hounds.  Of  these  we  have 
two  at  the  ranch.  One  is  a  rough-coated,  pure-blood  Scotch  stag- hound, 
named  Rob.  The  other.  Brandy,  is  a  track-hound,  bell-mouthed,  lop-eared, 
keen-nosed,  and  not  particularly  fast,  but  stanch  as  Death  himself  He 
comes  of  the  old  Southern  strain  ;  and,  indeed,  all  the  best  blooded  packs 
of  American  deer-hounds  or  fox-hounds  come  from  what  was  called  the 
Southern  Hound  in  early  seventeenth  century  England.  Thus  he  is  kin 
to  the  hounds  of  Bellemeade,  wherewith  General  Jackson  follows  the  buck 


THE    RANCHMAN'S    RIFLE    ON    CRAG    AND    PRAIRIE 


141 


and  the  gray  fox  over  the  beautiful  fertile  hills  of  middle  Tennessee ;  and 
some  of  the  same  blood  runs  in  the  veins  of  Mr.  Wadsworth's  Geneseo 
hounds,  behind  which  I  have  ridden  as  they  chased  the  red  fox  through 
the  wooded  glens  and  across  the  open  fields  of  the  farms,  with  their  high 
rail  fences. 

I  often  take  Rob  out  when  still-hunting  black-tail,  leading  him  along  in 
a  leash.     He  is  perfectly  quiet,  not  even  whimpering ;   and  he  is  certain  to 


THE  BUCK  OVERTAKEN. 


overhaul  any  wounded  deer.  A  doe  or  a  flying  buck  is  borne  to  the  ground 
with  a  single  wrench,  and  killed  out  of  hand  ;  but  a  buck  at  bay  is  a  formi- 
dable opponent,  and  no  dog  can  rush  in  full  on  the  sharp  prong  points. 
If  the  two  dogs  are  together,  Rob  does  most  of  the  killing  ;  Brandy's  only 
function  is  to  distract  the  attention  of  an  angry  buck  and  then  allow  Rob 
to  pin  him.  Once  a  slightly  wounded  and  very  large  black-tail  buck,  started 
just  at  nightfall,  ran  down  to  the  river  and  made  a  running  bay  of  nearly 
two  hours,  Rob  steadily  at  him  the  whole  time  ;  it  was  too  dark  for  us  to 
shoot,  but  finally,  by  a  lucky  throw,  one  of  the  men  roped  the  quarry. 


1^2  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

Not  only  will  a  big  black-tail  buck  beat  off  a  clog  or  a  wolf  coming  at  him 
in  front,  but  he  is  an  awkward  foe  for  a  man.  One  of  them  nearly  killed  a 
cowboy  in  my  employ.  The  buck,  mortally  wounded,  had  fallen  to  the  shot, 
and  the  man  rushed  up  to  stick  him ;  then  the  buck  revived  for  a  moment, 
struck  down  the  man,  and  endeavored  to  gore  him,  but  could  not,  because 
of  the  despairing  grip  with  which  the  man  held  on  to  his  horns.  Never- 
theless the  man,  bruised  and  cut  by  the  sharp  hoofs,  was  fast  becoming  too 
weak  to  keep  his  hold,  when  in  the  struggle  they  came  to  the  edge  of  a 
washout,  and  fell  into  it  some  twelve  or  fifteen  feet.  This  separated  them. 
The  dying  buck  was  too  weak  to  renew  the  attack,  and  the  man  crawled 
off;   but  it  was  months  before  he  got  over  the  effects  of  the  encounter. 

Sometimes  we  kill  the  white-tail  also  by  fair  still-hunting,  but  more 
often  we  shoot  them  on  the  dense  river  bottoms  by  the  help  of  the  track- 
hound.  We  put  the  dogs  into  the  woods  with  perhaps  a  single  horseman 
to  guide  them  and  help  them  rout  out  the  deer,  while  the  rest  of  us,  rifle 
in  hand,  ride  from  point  to  point  outside,  or  else  watch  the  passes  through 
which  the  hunted  animals  are  likely  to  run.  It  is  not  a  sport  of  which  I 
am  very  fond,  but  it  is  sometimes  pleasant  as  a  variety.  The  last  time 
that  we  tried  it  I  killed  a  buck  in  the  bottom  right  below  our  ranch  house, 
not  half  a  mile  off.  The  river  was  low,  and  my  post  was  at  its  edge,  with 
in  front  of  me  the  broad  sandy  flat  sparsely  covered  with  willow-brush. 
Deer  are  not  much  afraid  of  an  ordinary  noisy  hound  ;  they  will  play  round 
in  front  of  him,  head  and  flag  in  air ;  but  with  Rob  it  was  different.  The 
gray,  wolfish  beast,  swift  and  silent,  threw  them  into  a  panic  of  terror,  and 
in  headlong  flight  they  would  seek  safety  from  him  in  the  densest  thicket. 

On  the  evening  in  question  one  of  my  cowboys  went  into  the  brush 
with  the  hounds.  I  had  hardly  ridden  to  my  place  and  dismounted  when 
I  heard  old  Brandy  giv^e  tongue,  the  bluffs  echoing  back  his  long-drawn 
baying.  Immediately  afterwards  a  young  buck  appeared,  coming  along 
the  sandy  river-bed,  trotting  or  cantering;  and  very  handsome  he  looked, 
stepping  with  a  light,  high  action,  his  glossy  coat  glistening,  his  head 
thrown  back,  his  white  flag  flaunting.  My  bullet  struck  him  too  far 
back,  and  he  went  on,  turning  into  the  woods.  Then  the  dogs  appeared, 
old  Brandy  running  the  scent,  while  the  eager  gaze-hound  made  wide 
half-circles  round  him  as  he  ran ;  while  the  cowboy,  riding  a  vicious 
yellow  mustang,  galloped  behind,  cheering  them  on.  As  they  struck  the 
bloody  trail  they  broke  into  clamorous  yelling,  and  tore  at  full  speed  into 
the  woods.  A  minute  or  two  later  the  sound  ceased,  and  I  knew  that  they 
had  run  into  the  quarry. 

Sometimes  we  use  the  hounds  for  other  o-ame  besides  deer.     A  neio-h- 


THE    RANCHMAN'S   RIFLE    ON    CRAG   AND    PRAIRIE 


143 


boring-  ranchman  had  a  half-breed  fox-and-greyhound,  who,  single-handed, 
ran  into  and  throttled  a  coyote.  I  have  been  very  anxious  to  try  my 
dogs  on  a  big  wolf,  intending  to  take  along  a  collie  and  a  half-breed 
mastiff  we  have  to  assist  at  the  bay.  The  mastiff  is  a  good  fighter,  and 
can  kill  a  wildcat,  taking  the  necessary  punishment  well,  as  we  found  out 
when  we  once  trapped  one  of  these  small  lynxes.  Shep,  the  collie,  is  an 
adept  at  killing  badgers,  grabbing  them  from  behind  and  whirling  them 
round,  whereas  Brandy  always  gets  his  great  lop-ears  bitten.  But  how 
they  would  do  with  a  wolf  I  cannot  say ;  for  one  of  these  long-toothed 
wanderers  is  usually  able  to  outrun  and  outfight  any  reasonable  number 
of  common  hounds,  and  will  kill  even  a  big  dog  very  quickly. 

A  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Heber  Bishop,  once  coursed  and  killed  a  wolf 
with  two  Scotch  deer-hounds.  After  a  brisk  run  the  dogs  overtook  and 
held  the  quarry,  but  could  not  kill  it,  and  were  being  very  roughly  han- 
dled when  Mr.  Bishop  came  to  their  assistance.  But  a  ranchman  in  the 
Indian  Territory  has  a  large  pack  of  these  same  Scotch  dogs  trained 
especially  to  hunt  the  wolf;  and  four  or  five  of  the  fleet,  high-couraged 
animals  can  not  only  soon  overhaul  a  wolf,  but  can  collar  and  throttle 
even  the  largest.  Accidents  to  the  pack  are,  of  course,  frequent.  They 
say  that  the  worry  is  enough  to  make  one's  hair  stand  on  end. 

Before  leaving  the  subject,  it  is  worth  noting  that  we  have  with  us  the 
Canada  lynx  as  well  as  his  smaller  brother ;  and,  more  singular  still,  that 
a  wolverine,  usually  found  only  in  the  northern  forests,  was  killed  two  win- 
ters ago  in  a  big  woody  bottom  on  the  Little  Missouri,  about  forty  miles 
north  of  Medora.  The  skin  and  skull  were  unmistakable  ;  so  there  could 
be  no  doubt  as  to  the  beast's  identity. 

I  have  had  good  sport  on  the  rolling  plains,  near  Mandan,  in  follow- 
ing a  scratch  pack  of  four  fleet,  long-legged  dogs.  One  was  a  wire-haired 
Scotch  deer-hound;  his  mate  was  a  superb  greyhound,  the  speediest  of  the 
set.  Both  were  possessed  of  the  dauntless  courage  peculiar  to  high-bred 
hunting  dogs.  The  other  two  were  mongrels,  but,  nevertheless,  game  fighters 
and  swift  runners  :  one  was  a  lurcher,  and  the  other  a  cross  between  a  grey- 
hound and  a  fox-hound — the  only  one  of  the  four  that  ever  gave  tongue. 
The  two  former  had  been  used  together  often,  and  had  slain  five 
coyotes,  two  deer  (white-tails),  and  an  antelope.  Both  the  antelope  and 
the  deer  they  had  fairly  run  down,  having  come  up  close  on  them,  so  that 
they  had  good  send-offs ;  but  there  is  a  wide  individual  variation  among 
game  animals  as  regards  speed,  and  those  that  they  caught — at  any  rate 
the  antelope  —  may  not  have  been  as  fleet  as  most  of  their  kind.  They 
were  especially  fond  of  chasing  coyotes,  and  these  they  easily  overtook. 


l_^j^  RANXH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

When  at  bay  the  coyotes  fought  desperately  but  unavaiHngly,  the  two 
hounds  kilHng  their  c^uarry  ver\-  quickly,  one  seizing  it  by  the  throat  and 
the  other  by  the  tlanks,  and  then  stretching  it  out  in  a  trice.  They  occa- 
sionally received  trifling  injuries  in  these  contests.  The  animal  that  gave 
them  most  trouble  was  a  badger  which  they  once  found  and  only  killed 
after  prolonged  efforts,  its  squat,  muscular  form  and  tough  skin  making 
it  very  difficult  tor  them  to  get  a  good  hold. 

We  did  not  have  time  to  go  far  from  Mandan,  and  so  confined  our 
coursing  to  jack  rabbits,  swifts,  and  foxes.  Of  the  latter,  the  great  red 
prairie  fox,  we  saw  but  one,  which  got  up  so  close  to  the  dogs  that  it  had 
no  chance  at  all,  and  after  a  fine  burst  of  a  few  hundred  yards  was  over- 
taken and  torn  to  pieces.  The  swifts  are  properly  called  swift  foxes, 
being  rather  smaller  than  the  southern  gray  fox.  Ever  since  the  days  of 
the  early  explorers  they  have  been  reputed  to  possess  marvelous  speed, 
and  their  common  name  of  "swift,"  by  which  they  are  universally  known, 
perpetuates  the  delusion ;  for  a  delusion  it  emphatically  is,  since  they  are, 
if  anything,  rather  slow  than  otherwise.  Once,  in  a  snow  storm,  I  started 
one  up  under  my  horse's  feet  while  riding  across  the  prairie,  overtook 
him  in  a  few  strides,  and  killed  him  by  a  lucky  shot  with  the  revolver. 
The  speed  of  the  coyote  also  has  been  laughably  exaggerated.  Judging  by 
the  records  of  the  hounds,  the  antelope  is  the  fastest  plains'  animal,  the 
white-tail  deer  and  the  jack  rabbit  coming  next ;  then  follow,  in  order, 
the  coyote,  the  fox,  and  the  swift,  which  is  the  slowest  of  all.  Individuals 
vary  greatly,  however ;  thus  a  fast  jack  rabbit  might  well  outrun  a  slow 
deer,  and  of  course  both  coyote  and  fox  will  outlast  the  swifter  jack  rab- 
bits. Several  dogs  should  run  together,  as  otherwise  a  jack  or  a  swift, 
although  overtaken,  may  yet  escape  by  its  dexterity  in  dodging.  The 
cactus  beds  often  befriend  the  hunted  animals,  as  the  dogfs  rush  heed- 
lessly  into  them  and  are  promptly  disabled,  while  a  rabbit  or  a  fox  wall  slip 
through  without  injury. 

Two  or  three  of  us  usually  went  out  together.  Our  method  of  pro- 
cedure was  simple.  We  scattered  out,  dogs  and  men,  and  rode  in  an 
irregular  line  across  the  country,  beating  with  care  the  most  likely  looking 
places,  and  following  at  top  speed  any  game  that  got  up.  Sometimes  a 
jack  rabbit,  starting  w^ell  ahead,  would  run  for  two  miles  or  over,  nearly  in 
a  straight  line,  before  being  turned  by  the  leading  hound;  and  occasion- 
ally one  would  even  get  away  altogether.  At  other  times  it  would  be  over- 
hauled at  once  and  killed  instantly,  or  only  prolong  its  life  a  few^  seconds 
by  its  abrupt  turns  and  twists.  One  swift  gave  us  several  minutes'  chase, 
although  never  getting  thirty  rods  from  the  place  where  it  started.     The 


THE    RANCHMAN'S   RIFLE    ON    CRAG    AND    PRAIRIE 


145 


little  fellow  went  off  as  merrily  as  possible,  his  handsome  brush  streaming 
behind  him,  and,  though  overtaken  at  once,  dodged  so  cleverly  that  dog 
after  dog  shot  by  him.  I  do  not  think  that  a  single  dog  could  have  killed 
him. 

Coursing  is  the  sport  of  all  sports  for  ranchmen,  now  that  big  animals 
are  growing  scarce ;  and  certainly  there  can  be  no  healthier  or  more  excit- 
ing pastime  than  that  of  following  game  with  horse  and  hound  over  the 
great  Western  plains. 


OUR   CAMP. 


MOUNTAIN    LIONS   AT    THE    DEER   CACHE. 


THE  WAPITI,  OR  ROUND-HORNED  ELK 


OUR    ELK   OUTFIT   AT   THE    FORD. 


X 

The   Wapiti,    or    Round- Horxed    Elk 


HIS  stately  and  splendid  deer,  the  lordliest  of  its  kind  throughout 
the  world,  is  now  fast  vanishing.  In  our  own  neighborhood  it  is 
already  almost  a  thing  of  the  past.  But  a  small  band  yet  lingers  round 
a  great  tract  of  prairie  and  Bad  Lands  some  thirty-five  miles  from 
the  ranch  house. 

One  fall  I  killed  a  good  bull  out  of  the  lot,  I  was  hunting  on 
horseback,  and  roused  the  elk  out  of  a  deep,  narrow  coulee,  heavily  tim- 
bered, where  he  was  lying  by  himself  He  went  straight  up  the  steep  side 
directly  opposite  to  where  I  stood,  for  I  had  leaped  off  my  horse  when  I 
heard  the  crash  of  the  underbrush.  When  on  a  level  with  me,  he  halted 
and  turned  half  round  to  gaze  at  me  across  the  ravine,  and  then  I  shot  him. 
The  next  season,  when  we  were  sorely  in  need  of  meat  for  smoking  and 
drying,  we  went  after  these  elk  again.  At  the  time  most  of  the  ponies 
were  off  on  one  of  the  round-ups,  which  indeed  I  had  myself  just  left. 
However,  my  two  hunting-horses,  Manitou  and  Sorrel  Joe,  were  at  home. 
The  former  I  rode  myself,  and  on  the  latter  I  mounted  one  of  my  men  who 
was  a  particularly  good  hand  at  finding  and  following  game.  With  much 
difficulty  we  got  together  a  scrub  wagon  team  of  four  as  unkempt,  dejected, 
and  vicious-looking  broncos  as  ever  stuck  fast  in  a  quicksand  or  balked  in 
pulling  up  a  steep  pitch.  Their  driver  was  a  crack  whip,  and  their  load 
light,  consisting  of  little  but  the  tent  and  the  bedding ;  so  we  got  out  to 
the  hunting-ground  and  back  in  safety;  but  as  the  river  was  high  and  the 
horses  were  weak,  we  came  within  an  ace  of  being  swamped  at  one  cross- 
ing, and  the  country  was  so  very  rough  that  we  were  only  able  to  get  the 
wagon  up  the  worst  pitch  by  hauling  from  the  saddle  v/ith  the  riding- 
animals. 

We  camped  by  an  excellent  spring  of  cold,  clear  water — not  a  common 
luxury  in  the  Bad  Lands.  We  pitched  the  tent  beside  it,  getting  enough 
timber  from  a  grove  of  ash  to  make  a  large  fire,  which  again  is  an  appre- 

-3  147 


148 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


ciated  blessiiii;-  on  the  plains  of  the  West,  where  we  often  need  to  carry 
along  with  us  the  wood  for  cooking  our  supper  and  breakfast,  and  some- 
times actually  have  to  dig  up  our  fuel,  making  the  fire  of  sage-brush  roots, 
eked  out  with  buffalo  chips.  Though  the  days  were  still  warm,  the  nights 
were  frosty.  Our  camp  was  in  a  deep  valley,  bounded  by  steep  hills  with 
sloping,  grassy  sides,  one  of  them  marked  by  a  peculiar  shelf  of  rock.  The 
country  for  miles  was  of  this  same  character,  much  broken,  but  everywhere 
passable  for  horsemen,  and  with  the  hills  rounded  and  grassy,  except  now 
and  then  for  a  chain  of  red  scoria  buttes  or  an  isolated  sugar-loaf  cone  of 
gray  and  brown  clay.  The  first  day  we  spent  in  trying  to  find  the  proba- 
ble locality  of  our  game  ;  and  after  beating  pretty  thoroughly  over  the 
smoother  country,  towards  nightfall  we  found  quite  fresh  elk  tracks  leading 
into  a  stretch  of  very  rough  and  broken  land  about  ten  miles  from  camp. 

We  started  next  morning  before  the  gray  was  relieved  by  the  first  faint 
flush  of  pink,  and  reached  the  broken  country  soon  after  sunrise.  Here 
we  dismounted  and  picketed  our  horses,  as  the  ground  we  were  to  hunt 
through  was  very  rough.  Two  or  three  hours  passed  before  we  came  upon 
fresh  signs  of  elk.  Then  we  found  the  trails  that  two,  from  the  size  presum- 
ably cows,  had  made  the  preceding  night,  and  started  to  follow  them,  care- 
fully and  noiselessly,  my  companion  taking  one  side  of  the  valley  in  which 
we  were  and  I  the  other.  The  tracks  led  into  one  of  the  wildest  and  most 
desolate  parts  of  the  Bad  Lands.  It  was  now  the  heat  of  the  day,  the 
brazen  sun  shining  out  of  a  cloudless  sky,  and  not  the  least  breeze  stirring. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  in  the  deep,  narrow  bed  of  the  winding 
water-course,  lay  a  few  tepid  little  pools,  almost  dried  up.  Thick  groves 
of  stunted  cedars  stood  here  and  there  in  the  glen-like  pockets  of  the  high 
buttes,  the  peaks  and  sides  of  which  were  bare,  and  only  their  lower, 
terrace-like  ledges  thinly  clad  with  coarse,  withered  grass  and  sprawling 
sage-brush  ;  the  parched  hill-sides  were  riven  by  deep,  twisted  gorges,  with 
brushwood  in  the  bottoms;  and  the  cliffs  of  coarse  clay  were  cleft  and 
seamed  by  sheer-sided,  caiion-like  gullies.  In  the  narrow  ravines,  closed 
in  by  barren,  sun-baked  walls,  the  hot  air  stood  still  and  sultry  ;  the  only 
living-  beinofs  were  the  rattlesnakes,  and  of  these  I  have  never  elsewhere 
seen  so  many.  Some  basked  in  the  sun,  stretched  out  at  their  ugly  length 
of  mottled  brown  and  yellow  ;  others  lay  half  under  stones  or  twined  in  the 
roots  of  the  sage-brush,  and  looked  straight  at  me  with  that  strange,  sullen, 
evil  gaze,  never  shifting  or  moving,  that  is  the  property  only  of  serpents 
and  of  certain  men ;  while  one  or  two  coiled  and  rattled  menacingly  as  I 
stepped  near. 

Yet,   though  we  walked  as  quietly  as  we  could,   the  game  must  have 


THE  WAPITI,  OR  ROUND- HORNED  ELK  l^n 

heard  or  smelt  us  ;  for  after  a  mile's  painstaking  search  we  came  to  a 
dense  thicket  in  which  were  two  beds,  evidently  but  just  left,  for  the  t\vi<->-s 
and  bent  grass-blades  were  still  slowly  rising  from  the  ground  to  which 
the  bodies  of  the  elk  had  pressed  them.  The  long,  clean  hoof-prints  told 
us  that  the  quarry  had  started  off  at  a  swinging  trot.  We  followed  at  once, 
and  it  was  wonderful  to  see  how  such  large,  heavy  beasts  had  gone  up  the 
steepest  hill-sides  without  altering  their  swift  and  easy  gait,  and  had 
plunged  unhesitatingly  over  nearly  sheer  cliffs  down  which  we  had  to 
clamber  with  careful  slowness. 

They  left  the  strip  of  rugged  Bad  Lands  and  went  on  into  the  smoother 
country  beyond,  luckily  passing  quite  close  to  where  our  horses  were 
picketed.  We  thought  it  likely  that  they  would  halt  in  some  heavily  tim- 
bered coulees  six  or  seven  miles  off;  and  as  there  was  no  need  of  hurry, 
we  took  lunch  and  then  began  following  them  up  —  an  easy  feat,  as 
their  hoofs  had  sunk  deep  into  the  soft  soil,  the  prints  of  the  dew-claws 
showing  now  and  then.  At  first  we  rode,  but  soon  dismounted,  and  led 
our  horses. 

We  found  the  elk  almost  as  soon  as  we  struck  the  border  of  the  ground 
we  had  marked  as  their  probable  halting-place.  Our  horses  were  unshod, 
and  made  but  little  noise  ;  and  coming  to  a  wide,  long  coulee  filled  with  tall 
trees  and  brushwood,  we  as  usual  separated,  I  going  down  one  side  and 
my  companion  the  other.  When  nearly  half-way  down  he  suddenly 
whistled  sharply,  and  I  of  course  at  once  stood  still,  with  my  rifle  at  the 
ready.  Nothing  moved,  and  I  glanced  at  him.  He  had  squatted  down 
and  was  gazing  earnestly  over  into  the  dense  laurel  on  my  side  of  the 
coulee.  In  a  minute  he  shouted  that  he  saw  a  red  patch  in  the  brush 
which  he  thought  must  be  the  elk,  and  that  it  was  right  between  him  and 
myself  Elk  will  sometimes  lie  as  closely  as  rabbits,  even  when  not  in 
very  good  cover ;  still  I  was  a  little  surprised  at  these  not  breaking  out 
when  they  heard  human  voices.  However,  there  they  staid  ;  and  I  waited 
several  minutes  in  vain  for  them  to  move.  From  where  I  stood  it  was 
impossible  to  see  them,  and  I  was  fearful  that  they  might  go  off  down  the 
valley  and  so  offer  me  a  very  poor  shot.  Meanwhile,  Manitou,  who  is  not 
an  emotional  horse,  and  is  moreover  blessed  with  a  large  appetite,  was  feed- 
ing greedily,  rattling  his  bridle-chains  at  every  mouthful ;  and  I  thought 
that  he  would  act  as  a  guard  to  keep  the  elk  where  they  were  until  I 
shifted  my  position.  So  I  slipped  back,  and  ran  swiftly  round  the  head 
of  the  coulee  to  where  my  companion  was  still  sitting.  He  pointed  me 
out  the  patch  of  red  in  the  bushes,  not  sixty  yards  distant,  and  I  fired  into 
it  without  delay,  by  good  luck  breaking  the  neck  of  a  cow  elk,  when  imme- 


15^ 


RANCH    LIFE   AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


diately  another  one  rose  up  from  beside  it  and  made  off.  I  had  five 
shots  at  her  as  she  ascended  the  liiU-side  and  the  gentle  slope  beyond; 
and  two  of  my  bullets  struck  her  close  together  in  the  flank,  ranging  for- 
ward—  a  very  fatal  shot.  She  was  evidently  mortally  hit,  and  just  as  she 
reached  the  top  of  the  divide  she  stopped,  reeled,  and  fell  over,  dead. 

We  were  mucli  pleased  with  our  luck,  as  it  secured  us  an  ample  stock 
of  needed  fresh  meat ;  and  the  two  elk  lay  very  handil)-,  so  that  on  the  fol- 
lowing- day  we  were  able  to  stop  for  them  with  the  wagon  on  our  way 
homeward,  putting  them  in  bodily,  and  leaving  only  the  entrails  for  the 
vultures  that  were  already  soaring  in  great  circles  over  the  carcasses.^ 

Much  the  finest  elk  antlers  I  ever  got,  as  a  trophy  of  my  owm  rifie, 
were  from  a  might)-  bull  that  I  killed  far  to  the  w^est  of  my  ranch,  in  the 
eastern  chains  of  the  Rockies.  I  shot  him  early  one  morning,  while  still- 
hunting  through  the  open  glades  of  a  great  pine  forest,  where  the  frosty 
dew  was  still  heavy  on  the  grass.  We  had  listened  to  him  and  his  fel- 
lows challenging  each  other  all  night  long.  Near  by  the  call  of  the  bulls 
in  the  rutting  season — their  "whistling,"  as  the  frontiersmen  term 
it  —  sounds  harsh  and  grating;  but  heard  in  the  depths  of  their  own 
mountain  fastnesses,  ringing  through  the  frosty  night,  and  echoing  across 
the  ravines  and  under  the  silent  archways  of  the  pines,  it  has  a  grand, 
musical  beauty  of  its  own  that  makes  it,  to  me,  one  of  the  most  attractive 
sounds  in  nature. 

At  this  season  the  bulls  fight  most  desperately,  and  their  combats  are 
far  more  often  attended  with  fatal  results  than  is  the  case  wath  deer.  In 
the  grov^  back  of  my  ranch  house,  when  we  first  took  possession,  we 
found  the  skulls  of  two  elk  with  interlocked  antlers  ;  one  was  a  royal,  the 
other  had  fourteen  points.     Theirs  had  been  a  duel  to  the  death. 

In  hunting,  whether  on  the  prairie  or  in  the  deep  w^oods,  a  m.an  ought 
to  pay  great  heed  to  his  surroundings,  so  as  not  to  get  lost.  To  an  old 
hand,  getting  lost  is  not  so  very  serious ;  because,  if  he  has  his  rifle  and 
some  matches,  and  does  not  lose  his  head,  the  worst  that  can  happen  to 
him  is  having  to  suffer  some  temporary  discomfort.  But  a  novice  is  in 
imminent   dano^er  of  losing  his  wdts,   and   therefore  his   life.      To  a  man 

*  No    naturalist    ever   described    the  way    vultures   gather  with    more    scientific    accuracy    than 
Longfellow: 


•Never  stoops  the  soaring  vulture 
On  his  quarry  in  the  desert. 
On  the  sick  or  wounded  bison, 
But  another  vulture,  watching 
From  his  high  aerial  looko   ., 


Sees  the  downward  plunge,  and  follows: 
And  a  third  pursues  the  second, 
Coming  from  the  invisible  ether, 
First  a  speck,  and  then  a  vulture, 
Till  the  air  is  dark  with  pinions." 


THE   WAPITI,    OR    ROUND -HORNED    ELK  151 

totally  unaccustomed  to  it  the  sense  of  utter  "loneliness  is  absolutely 
appalling:  the  feeling  of  being  lost  in  the  wilderness  seems  to  drive  him 
into  a  state  of  panic  terror  that  is  frightful  to  behold,  and  that  in  the  end 
renders  him  bereft  of  reason.  When  he  realizes  that  he  is  lost  he  often  will 
begin  to  travel  very  fast,  and  finally  run  until  he  falls  exhausted  —  only  to 
rise  again  and  repeat  the  process  when  he  has  recovered  his  strength.  If 
not  found  in  three  or  four  days,  he  is  very  apt  to  become  crazy;  he  will  then 
flee  from  the  rescuers,  and  must  be  pursued  and  captured  as  if  he  were  a 
wild  animal. 

Since  1884,  when  I  went  to  the  Big  Horn  Mountains,  I  have  killed  no 
grizzlies.  There  are  some  still  left  in  our  neighborhood,  but  they  are  very 
shy,  and  live  in  such  inaccessible  places,  that,  though  I  have  twice  devoted 
several  days  solely  to  hunting  them,  I  was  unsuccessful  each  time.  A 
year  ago,  however,  two  cowboys  found  a  bear  in  the  open,  and  after  the 
expenditure  of  a  great  number  of  cartridges  killed  it  with  their  revolvers, 
the  bear  charging  gamely  to  the  last. 

But  this  feat  sinks  into  insignificance  when  compared  with  the  deed  of 
General  W.  H.  Jackson,  of  Bellemeade,  Tennessee,  who  is  probably  the 
only  man  living  who  ever,  single-handed,  killed  a  grizzly  bear  with  a 
cavalry  saber.  It  was  many  years  ago,  when  he  was  a  young  officer  in 
the  United  States  service.  He  was  with  a  column  of  eight  companies 
of  mounted  infantry  under  the  command  of  Colonel  Andrew  Porter,  when 
by  accident  a  bear  was  roused  and  lumbered  off  in  front  of  them.  Put- 
ting spurs  to  his  thoroughbred,  he  followed  the  bear,  and  killed  it  with 
the  saber,  in  sis^ht  of  the  whole  command. 


HERALDING  THE   SUNRISE. 


THE  BIG-HORN  SHEEP 


y 


y^  t'v- 


A    MOUNTAIN    HUNTER. 


XI 

The  Big -Horn  Sheep 


T  has  happened  that  I  have  generally  hunted  big-horn  during  weather 
of  arctic  severity  ;  so  that  in  my  mind  this  great  sheep  is  inseparably 
associated  with  snow- clad,  desolate  wastes,  ice-coated  crags,  and  the 
bitter  cold  of  a  northern  winter ;  whereas  the  sight  of  a  prono--buck, 
the  game  that  we  usually  hunt  early  in  the  season,  always  recalls  to 
me  the  endless  green  of  the  midsummer  prairies  as  they  shimmer  in 
the  sunlight. 

Yet  in  reality  the  big-horn  is  by  no  means  confined  to  any  one 
climatic  zone.  Along  the  interminable  mountain  chains  of  the  Great  Divide 
it  ranges  south  to  the  hot,  dry  table-lands  of  middle  Mexico,  as  well  as  far 
to  the  northward  of  the  Canadian  boundary,  among  the  towerino-  and 
tremendous  peaks  where  the  glaciers  are  fed  from  fields  of  everlasting 
snow.  There  exists  no  animal  more  hardy,  nor  any  better  fitted  to  grap- 
ple with  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold.  Droughts,  scanty  pasturage,  or 
deep  snows  make  it  shift  its  ground,  but  never  mere  variation  of  tempera- 
ture. The  lofty  mountains  form  its  favorite  abode,  but  it  is  almost  equally 
at  home  in  any  large  tract  of  very  rough  and  broken  ground.  It  is  by  no 
means  an  exclusively  alpine  animal,  like  the  white  goat.  It  is  not  only 
found  throughout  the  main  chains  of  the  Rockies,  as  well  as  on  the  Sierras 
of  the  south  and  the  coast  ranges  of  western  Oregon,  Washington,  and 
British  Columbia,  but  it  also  exists  to  the  east  among  the  clusters  of 
high  hills  and  the  stretches  of  barren  Bad  Lands  that  break  the  monoto- 
nous level  of  the  great  plains. 

Throughout  most  of  its  range  the  big-horn  is  a  partly  migratory 
beast.  In  the  summer  it  seeks  the  highest  mountains,  often  passing  above 
timber-line  ;  and  when  the  fall  snows  deepen  it  comes  down  to  the  lower 
spurs  or  foot-hills,  or  may  even  travel  some  distance  southward.  If  there 
is  a  large  tract  of  Bad  Lands  near  the  mountains,  sheep  may  be  plentiful 

-4  ir. 


154 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


in  them  throughout  the  severe  weather,  while  in  the  summer  not  a  single 
individual  will  be  found  in  its  winter  haunts,  all  havino-  then  retired  to  the 
high  peaks. 

Sometimes  big-horn  wander  widely  lor  reasons  unconnected  with  the 
weather :  all  of  those  in  a  district  may  suddenly  leave  it  and  perhaps  not 
return  for  several  years.  Such  is  often  the  result  of  a  district  being  settled, 
or  being  exposed  to  incessant  hunting.  After  a  certain  number  of  sheep 
have  been  killed  the  remainder  may  all  disappear,  possibly  one  or  two 
small  bands  onl)-  staying  behind  ;  but  it  is  quite  likely  that  two  or  three 
vears  later  the  bulk  of  the  vanished  host  will  come  back  ao^ain. 

But  where  the  region  that  they  inhabit  is  cut  off  from  the  mountains 
by  settled  districts,  or  by  great  stretches  of  plain  and  prairie,  then  the 
sheep  that  dwell  therein  can  make  no  such  migrations.  Thus  they  live 
all  the  year  round  in  the  Little  Missouri  Bad  Lands  ;  and  though  the  dif- 
ferent bands  wander  away  and  to  and  fro  for  scores  of  miles,  especially  in 
the  fall, —  for  big-horn  are  far  more  restless  than  deer, —  yet  they  do  not 
shift  their  positions  much  on  account  of  the  season,  and  are  often  found  in 
precisely  the  same  places  both  summer  and  winter.  They  thus  bear  with 
indifference  exposure  to  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  in  a  climate  where 
the  yearly  variation  reaches  the  utmost  possible  limit,  the  thermometer 
sometimes  covering  a  range  of  a  hundred  and  seventy  degrees  in  the 
course  of  twelve  months.  There  are  few  spots  on  earth  much  hotter  than 
these  Bad  Lands  during  a  spell  of  fierce  summer  weather,  and,  unlike  the 
deer,  the  sheep  cannot  seek  the  shade  of  the  dense  thickets.  In  the  glare 
of  midday  the  naked  angular  hills  yield  no  shelter  whatever;  the  barren 
ravines  between  them  turn  into  ovens  beneath  the  brazen  sun.  The  still, 
lifeless,  burning  air  stifles  those  who  breathe  it,  while  the  parched  and 
heat-cracked  canon  walls  are  intolerable  to  the  touch. 

But  though  the  mountain  sheep  can  stand  this,  and  in  fact  do  so  with 
even  less  protection  than  the  deer,  yet  they  certainly  dislike  it  more  than 
do  the  latter.  If  mountains  are  near,  they  go  up  them  far  sooner  and  far 
higher  than  the  deer.  On  the  other  hand,  they  bear  the  winter  blizzards 
much  better,  caring  less  for  shelter,  and  keeping  their  strength  pretty  well. 
Ordinarily  when  in  the  Bad  Lands  they  do  not  shift  their  ground  save  to 
get  on  the  lee  side  of  the  cliffs,  though  the  deep  snows  of  course  drive 
them  from  the  mountains.  A  very  heavy  fall  of  snow^  if  they  are  high  up 
on  the  hills,  occasionally  forces  a  band  to  enter  the  evergreen  woods 
and  make  a  regular  yard,  as  deer  do,  beneath  the  overhanging  cover-giv- 
ing branches ;  then  they  subsist  on  the  scanty  browse  until  they  can  get 
back   to   pasture   lands.       But  this   is   rare.       Generally   they   stay   in   the 


THE    BIG-HORN    SHEEP 


155 


Open,  and  bid  defiance  to  the  elements  ;  yet,  like  other  game,  they  often 
seem  to  have  the  knack  of  foretelling  any  storm  or  cold  spell  of  unusual 
severity  and  length.  On  the  eve  of  such  a  storm  they  frequently  retreat 
to  some  secure  haven  of  refuge.  This  may  be  a  nook  or  cranny  in  the 
rocks,  or  merely  a  slight  hollow  to  leeward  of  a  little  grove  of  stunted 
pines ;  and  there  the  band  may  have  to  stay  without  food  for  several  days, 
until  the  storm  is  over.  Occasionally  they  succumb  to  the  deep  snow  ;  but 
if  they  have  any  kind  of  chance  for  their  lives,  this  happens  less  often  than 
with  either  deer  or  antelope. 

The  big-horn,  or  cimarron  sheep,  as  the  Mexicans  call  it,  is  the  sole 
American  representative  of  the  different  kinds  of  mountain  sheep  that  are 
found  in  the  Old  World.  It  is  fourfold  the  weight  of  the  Mediterranean 
moufflon.  Its  nearest  relative,  from  which  it  is  with  difficulty  distinguished, 
is  the  huge  argali,  three  or  four  varieties  —  some  say  species  —  of  which 
are  to  be  found  in  the  high  lands  of  central  Asia.  The  American  and 
Asiatic  animals  seem  to  grade  into  one  another  as  regards  size ;  the 
north  Asiatic  argali  is  said  to  be  no  larger  than  the  big-horn,  but  the  giant 
Himalayan  sheep,  or  nyan,  averages  heavier,  both  in  body  and  horns,  and 
especially  in  length  of  legs.  The  horns  of  the  argali  have  more  outward 
twist.  The  largest  big-horn  of  which  I  have  ever  been  able  to  get  authentic 
record  was  one  killed  in  Montana  by  a  ranch  friend  of  mine,  and  care- 
fully weighed  and  measured  at  the  time.  At  the  shoulder  he  stood  just 
three  feet  eight  inches;  he  weighed  very  nearly  four  hundred  pounds;  and 
his  single  unbroken  horn  was  in  girth  nineteen  inches,  and  in  length  along 
the  curve  forty-two.  But  such  a  ram  is  a  giant.  The  largest  I  have 
myself  shot  I  had  no  means  of  weighing:  it  was  just  after  the  rutting 
season,  and  he  was  as  gaunt  as  a  greyhound.  At  the  shoulder  he  stood 
three  feet  five  inches ;  and  his  horns,  which  were  thick  for  their  length, 
were  in  girth  sixteen  and  a  half  inches,  and  in  length  thirty.  The 
nyan  of  Thibet,  on  the  other  hand,  stands  four  feet  high ;  and  exceptional 
rams  have  horns  twenty-three  inches  round  the  base  and  upwards  of  fifty 
in  length,  while  the  average  full-grown  one  will  perhaps  have  them  seven- 
teen inches  by  thirty-eight.  The  nyan  thus  certainly  stands  before  the 
big-horn,  although  even  among  full-grown  animals  many  heads  of  the  latter 
would  be  above  the  average  of  the  former.  The  difference  in  the  habits 
of  the  two  animals  is  very  marked,  for  according  to  the  English  sports- 
men the  nyan  keeps  exclusively  to  the  high,  open  plains,  or  barren,  gently 
sloping  hills ;  whereas  the  big-horn,  like  the  Old  World  ibex,  is  a  beast  of 
the  crags  and  precipices,  and  though  sometimes  venturing  into  the  level 
country,  yet  at  the  first  alarm  It  invariably  dashes  for  the  broken  ground. 


156  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

Our  American  mountain  sheep  usually  go  in  bands  of  from  fifteen  to 
thirt)-  indivieluals,  occasionall)-  of  many  more  ;  while  often  small  parties  of 
two  or  three  will  sta)-  b)-  themselves.  In  the  winter,  or  sometimes  not 
until  the  early  spring,  the  old  rams  separate.  The  oldest  and  finest  are 
often  found  entirely  alone,  retiring-  to  the  most  inaccessible  solitudes ;  the 
\  ounger  ones  keep  in  little  flocks  of  perhaps  half  a  dozen  or  so.  The 
main  band  then  consists  only  of  the  ewes,  the  yearlings,  and  now  and 
then  a  two-year-old ;  and  this  also  is  soon  broken  up,  leaving  merely  the 
yearlings  and  the  barren  ewes,  for  about  the  middle  of  May  the  ewes  that 
are  heavy  with  young  leave  the  rest,  each  by  herself  Like  the  old  rams, 
they  now  seek  the  most  inaccessible  and  far-off  places — high  up  the 
mountains,  if  possible ;  otherwise,  in  the  barren  and  unfrequented  portions 
ot  the  Bad  Lands,  where  the  steep  hills  and  abrupt  valleys  are  twisted 
into  a  mere  tangle  of  precipitous  crests  and  canons.  Here  the  ewe 
makes  her  lying-in  bed — oval  in  shape,  like  that  of  a  prong-horn  or 
black-tail  doe,  but  made  by  pawing  out,  or  perhaps  merely  wearing  out, 
a  slight  hollow  in  the  bare  soil ;  whereas  the  doe  crushes  down  with  her 
weight  the  long  grass  of  the  prairie  or  thicket.  This  bed  is  usually  made 
on  the  ledge  of  a  cliff,  on  the  side  where  there  is  most  shelter  from  the 
prevailing  winds ;  perhaps  it  is  beneath  a  great  rock  or  clay  bowlder, 
with  not  so  much  as  a  blade  of  grass  around,  or  it  may  be  partly  screened 
by  a  few  wind-beaten  sage-bushes.  Generally  only  one,  but  sometimes 
two,  young  are  brought  forth  at  a  birth.  The  young  lamb  matches  his 
surroundings  wonderfully  in  color,  and  the  ewe  is  very  careful  in  going  to 
him  to  be  sure  that  she  is  unobserved.  For  the  first  day  or  two  the  lamb 
trusts  for  his  safety  solely  to  not  being  seen  by  the  beasts  and  birds  of 
prey.  He  crouches  flat  down,  like  an  antelope  fawn,  and  it  is  next  to 
impossible  for  human  eyes  to  discover  him  save  by  accident.  Once  only 
I  stumbled  across  a  newly  born  lamb.  It  was  about  the  first  of  June,  and 
I  found  him  lying  by  the  bed  of  the  mother  as  I  was  going  along  a  ledge, 
scantily  covered  with  sage  brush,  in  the  heart  of  some  high,  wild  hills, 
about  fifteen  miles  from  my  ranch.  The  little  fellow  was  too  young  to 
show  much  alarm  when  I  handled  and  petted  him  and  with  much  difii- 
culty  persuaded  him  to  stand  up  on  his  helplessly  weak  and  awkward 
little  legs.  The  mother  was  about  two  hundred  yards  distant,  and  was 
greatly  frightened  when  I  drew  near  her  offspring  ;  she  hung  about  in 
the  distance  for  a  short  time  and  then  dashed  off.  However,  she  must 
have  returned  when  I  left;  for  two  or  three  days  later,  when  from  curi- 
osity I  came  back,  the  little  fellow  was  gone. 

When  the  young  are  able  to  clamber  about  for  short  distances  almost 


THE    BIG-HORN    SHEEP  157 

as  well  as  the  old,  then  the  nursing  ewes  and  their  lambs  rejoin  the  band, 
some  time  in  July.  The  band  now  keeps  in  the  neighborhood  of  water  and 
where  the  feed  is  good  —  comparatively  good,  at  least,  for  the  scanty 
pasturage  that  grows  on  the  mountains  and  barren  hills  haunted  by  the 
sheep  would  hardly  please  more  luxury-loving  animals.  The  flocks  of 
ewes  and  lambs  are  at  this  time  quite  easily  discovered,  but  of  course  no 
man  but  a  game  butcher  would  dream  of  molesting  them.  In  September 
the  young  rams  begin  to  join  them,  and  soon  afterwards  the  old  patriarchs 
likewise  come  down  from  their  remote  fastnesses. 

The  rams  now  fight  desperately  among  themselves  for  the  possession 
of  the  ewes,  rushing  together  with  a  shock  that  would  shatter  their  skulls 
were  they  less  strong;  while  the  battered  horns,  with  splintered  ends, 
bear  witness  to  the  violence  of  the  contests.  These  contests  are  free  from 
one  danger,  however;  the  horns  do  not  get  interlocked,  and  thus  cause 
the  death  of  both  combatants.  This  is  not  only  a  common  accident 
among  deer  and  elk,  but  it  even  happens  to  antelope ;  I  knew  of  one 
instance  where  two  prong-horn  bucks,  who  had  evidently  been  battling 
for  a  doe,  were  found  dead,  side  by  side,  partly  eaten  by  the  coyotes. 
The  right  horn  of  one  and  the  left  horn  of  the  other  had  become  locked 
together  so  firmly,  thanks  to  the  prong  and  the  hook  at  the  end,  that  they 
could  not  be  drawn  apart,  and  the  two  beasts  had  died  miserably  in  con- 
sequence. Each  herd  has  some  acknowledged  master  ram,  but  he  may 
tolerate  the  presence  of  three  or  four  others  of  lesser  degree,  together 
with  the  ewes,  lambs,  and  yearlings  that  go  to  make  up  the  rest  of  the 
flock  ;  or  else,  if  a  cross  old  fellow,  the  master  ram  may  turn  out  all  the 
others,  or  may  content  himself  with  a  little  bunch  of  merely  three  or  four 
ewes.  So  that  even  at  this  season  several  young  rams  may  be  found  by 
themselves  ;  or  a  morose  old  veteran,  time-worn  and  battle-scarred,  may 
keep  entirely  alone.  As  soon  as  the  rutting  season  is  over  many  of  these 
exiles  rejoin  the  band ;  and  at  this  time,  when  the  rams  are  of  course  in 
very  poor  condition,  they  are  all  apt  to  come  down  on  the  levels  more 
boldly  than  at  any  other  season,  to  get  at  the  good  grass,  although  even 
now  rarely  venturing  very  far  from  the  hills.  While  thus  on  the  edges 
of  the  plains,  their  natural  wariness  seems  to  increase  tenfold. 

But  at  all  times  their  habits  are  very  variable  ;  for  they  are  restless, 
wandering  beasts,  with  something  whimsical  in  their  tempers,  and  given 
at  times  to  queer  freaks.  If  the  fit  seize  them,  and  especially  if  they  have 
been  alarmed  or  annoyed,  they  may  at  any  time  leave  their  accustomed 
dwelling-places,  or  act  in  a  manner  absolutely  contrary  to  their  usual 
conduct.      About  noon  one  hot  midsummer  day,  three  great  rams  crossed 


I-S  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE   HUNTING-TRAH. 

the  river  just  below  our  ranch,  stopping-  to  drink,  and  spending  some  time 
on  the  sand-bars,  occasionally  playfully  butting  at  each  other.  They 
trotted  oft'  before  they  could  be  stalked.  To  get  down  to  the  river  they 
had  to  pass  over  a  level  plain  half  a  mile  wide  ;  and  once  across,  they  went 
through  a  dense  wood  choked  with  underbrush  for  nearly  half  a  mile 
more  before  again  coming  to  the  steep  bluffs.  On  another  occasion,  in 
the  rutting  season,  one  of  my  cowboys  encountered  a  mountain-ram  cross- 
ing a  broad,  level  river-bottom  at  midday.  Occasionally  a  ram  will  join  a 
Bock  of  ewes,  or  a  ewe  and  a  yearling,  in  the  spring.  Tw^o  or  three  times 
I  have  known  them  to  come  boldly  up  to  the  blufts  that  overlook  and 
skirt  a  little  frontier  town,  and  there  to  stay  grazing  or  resting  for  several 
hours ;  but  they  always  made  off  in  plenty  of  time  to  avoid  the  hunters 
who  finally  went  after  them.  Once  1  shot  one  within  a  few  hundred  yards 
of  my  ranch  house.  I  was  returning  home,  weary  and  unsuccessful,  after 
a  long  day's  tramp  over  hills  where  black-tail  usually  were  common. 
When  nearly  home  I  struck  into  a  w^ell-beaten  cattle-trail,  leading  down 
a  deep,  narrow  ravine  w4iich  cleft  in  two  a  knot  of  jagged  hills ;  it  was  a 
favorite  range  for  our  horses,  and  so  w^as  frequently  ridden  over  by  the 
cowboys.  On  turning  round  a  corner  of  the  ravine,  a  sudden  snort  to  one 
side  and  above  me  made  me  hastily  look  up,  shifting  my  rifle  from  my 
shoulder.  On  my  right  the  sheer  w^all  of  clay  rose  up  without  a  break  for 
perhaps  two  hundred  feet  or  so,  its  thin,  notched  crest  showing  against 
the  sky-line  as  sharply  as  if  cut  with  a  knife;  and  on  a  little  jutting  pin- 
nacle w^as  perched  a  mountain  sheep,  its  four  hoofs  all  together  on  a  space 
no  larger  than  the  palms  of  a  man's  hands.  It  was  facing  me  and  staring 
down  at  me,  so  that  the  bullet  went  right  into  its  chest,  splitting  its  heart 
fairly  open.  Yet  it  did  not  fall  forward  over  the  cliff,  but  wheeled  on  its 
haunches  and  w^ent  along  the  crest  at  a  mad,  plunging  gallop,  finally 
crossing  out  of  sight.  Almost  as  soon  as  it  disappeared  a  column  of 
dust  rose  from  the  other  side  of  the  ridge,  making  me  think  that  it  had 
fallen  some  distance,  striking  hard  on  the  dry  clay.  The  guess  was  a 
good  one,  and  when,  after  a  long  circle  and  some  climbing,  I  reached  the 
spot,  I  found  a  fine  young  barren  ewe  lying  dead  at  the  foot  of  a  high 
cut  bank. 

But  all  such  instances  as  these  are  wholly  exceptional,  and  are  chiefly 
interesting  as  showing  that  mountain  sheep  act  more  erratically  and  less 
according  to  rule  than  do  most  other  kinds  of  game.  They  seem  to  have 
fits  of  restless  waywardness,  or  even  of  panic  curiosity  ;  and  so  at  times 
wander  into  unlooked-for  places,  or  betray  a  sudden  heedlessness  of  dan- 
gers against  which  they  on  ordinary  occasions  carefully  guard.      This  last 


THE    BIG-HORx\    SHEEP  1 59 

freak,  however,  is  generally  shown  onl)-  in  very  wild  localities  or  among 
young  animals.  Where  hunters  are  scarce  or  almost  unknown,  all  wild 
animals  are  very  bold.  I  have  seen  deer  in  remote  forests,  and  even  in 
little-hunted  localities  near  my  ranch,  so  tame  that  they  would  stand  look- 
ing at  the  hunter  within  fifty  yards  for  several  minutes  before  taking 
flight.  Mountain  sheep  under  similar  circumstances  show  a  lordly  dis- 
regard for  the  human  intruder,  leaving  his  presence  at  a  leisurely  gait,  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  mad  gallop  of  their  more  sophisticated  brethren 
when  alarmed. 

In  fact,  much  of  the  wariness  among  beasts  of  chase,  as  well  as  much 
of  the  courage  shown  by  the  more  ferocious,  depends  upon  the  degree  in 
which  they  have  been  harried  by  hunters,  although  much  also  depends 
upon  the  character  of  the  species.  European  game  is  thus  generally 
wilder  than  American  ;  but  no  animal  could  be  more  difficult  to  approach 
than  a  Maine  moose.  The  deer  of  the  Adirondacks  and  Alleghanies  are 
almost  as  wary,  and  in  those  parts  of  the  Rockies  where  they  have  been 
much  molested,  big-horn  are  as  shy  as  the  chamois  of  the  Alps,  or  the  ibex 
of  the  Pyrenees.  So  the  sloth  bear  and  leopard  of  India  are  now  much 
more  vicious  and  dangerous  to  man  than  are  the  black  bear  and  cougar  of 
the  United  States,  simply  because  of  the  different  race  of  human  beings 
by  whom  they  are  surrounded. 

No  animal  seems  to  have  been  more  changed  by  domestication  than 
the  sheep.  The  timid,  helpless,  fleecy  idiot  of  the  folds,  the  most  foolish 
of  all  tame  animals,  has  hardly  a  trait  in  common  with  his  self-reliant  wild 
relative  who  combines  the  horns  of  a  sheep  with  the  hide  of  a  deer,  whose 
home  is  in  the  rocks  and  the  mountains,  and  who  is  so  abundantly  able  to 
take  care  of  himself  Wild  sheep  are  as  good  mountaineers  as  wild  goats, 
or  as  mountain  antelopes,  and  are  to  the  full  as  wary  and  intelligent. 

A  very  short  experience  with  the  rifle-bearing  portion  of  mankind 
changes  the  big-horn  into  a  quarry  whose  successful  chase  taxes  to  the 
utmost  the  skill  alike  of  still-hunter  and  of  mountaineer.  A  solitary  old 
ram  seems  to  be  ever  on  the  watch.  His  favorite  resting-place  is  a  shelf 
or  terrace-end  high  up  on  some  cliff,  from  whence  he  can  see  far  and  wide 
over  the  country  round  about.  The  least  sound  —  the  rattle  of  a  loose 
stone,  a  cough,  even  a  heavy  footfall  on  hard  earth  —  attracts  his  atten- 
tion, making  him  at  once  clamber  up  on  some  peak  to  try  for  a  glimpse 
of  the  danger.  His  eyes  catch  the  slightest  movement.  His  nose  is  as 
keen  as  an  elk's,  and  gives  him  surer  warning  than  any  other  sense ;  the 
slightest  taint  in  the  air  produces  immediate  flight  in  the  direction  away 
from  the  danger.     But  there  is  one  compensation,  from  the  hunter's  stand- 


l5o  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

point,  for  his  wonderfully  developed  smelling  powers ;  he  lives  in  such 
very  broken  country  that  the  currents  of  air  often  go  over  his  head,  so 
that  it  is  at  times  possible  to  hunt  him  almost  down  wind. 

A  band  of  sheep  is,  if  anything,  even  more  difficult  to  approach  than 
is  a  single  ram  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  far  easier  to  get  on  the  track 
of  and  to  find  out,  as  there  are  always  some  young  members  guilty  of 
indiscretions.  All  oi  the  flock  are  ever  on  the  lookout.  While  the  others 
are  grazing  there  is  always  at  least  one  with  its  head  up  ;  and  occasion- 
ally a  particularly  watchful  ewe  will  jump  up  on  some  bowlder,  or  at  least 
stand  with  her  fore-legs  against  its  side,  so  as  to  get  a  wider  view.  Any 
unexplained  sight  or  sound  is  announced  to  the  rest  of  the  herd  by  a  kind 
of  hissing  snort,  or  sometimes  by  a  stamp  of  the  forefoot  on  the  ground. 
If  the  intruder  is  either  smelt  or  seen,  the  whole  herd  instantly  break 
into  the  strong  but  not  particularly  swift  gallop  which  distinguishes  the 
species,  and  go  straight  away  from  the  danger  towards  the  roughest 
ground  that  they  can  reach.  If,  however,  only  alarmed  by  a  sound,  or  if 
the  suspicious  object  is  some  distance  off,  the  animals  often  run  together 
into  a  bunch  and  stand  gazing  in  its  direction  for  a  few  seconds  prior  to 
making  off  Among  cliffs  and  precipices  the  echoes  are  so  confusing  that 
if  the  hunter  keeps  out  of  sight  the  herd  occasionally  become  utterly 
bewildered  by  the  firing,  and,  as  a  result,  spend  several  fatal  minutes  in  a 
futile  runninof  to  and  fro,  uncertain  what  course  will  take  them  out  of  dan- 
ger.  One  day  my  cousin.  West  Roosevelt,  after  a  long  and  careful  stalk, 
got  close  up  to  three  sheep  in  a  very  deep  and  narrow  ravine ;  and 
althoueh,  owinof  to  their  beinor  almost  underneath  him,  he  at  first  over- 
shot,  yet  all  three  of  the  startled  and  panic-struck  animals  were  killed 
before  the}-  recovered  their  wits  sufficiently  to  run  out  of  range. 

But  a  chance  like  this  may  not  happen  once  in  a  hunter's  lifetime. 
Of  all  American  game,  this  is  the  one  in  whose  pursuit  the  successful 
hunter  needs  to  show  most  skill,  hardihood,  and  resolution.  On  ordinary 
occasions  a  big-horn,  when  menaced  by  danger,  flees  beyond  its  reach 
with  instant  decision  and  headlong  speed,  disappearing  with  incredible 
rapidity  over  ground  where  it  needs  an  expert  cragsman  to  so  much  as 
follow  at  a  walk.  Its  wonderful  feats  of  climbing  have,  as  with  the 
chamois  and  ibex  of  the  Old  World,  given  rise  to  many  fables,  the  most 
widespread  being  the  belief  that  the  rams,  in  plunging  down  precipices, 
alight  on  their  horns.  So  the  chamois  was  said  to  hang  over  ledges  by 
means  of  its  short,  hooked  horns,  and  when  cornered  on  the  edge  of  a 
sheer  precipice,  where  there  was  no  escape  from  the  hunter,  of  its  own 
accord   to   thrust   its  body    acrainst   his   outstretched    knife  —  as   we   read 


THE    BIG-HORN    SHEEP 


l6l 


and  see  pictured  in  the  German  hunting-books  of  two  or  three  centuries 
ago,  such  as  the  quaint  old  "  Adeliche  Weidwerke." 

The  mountain  sheep  of  America,  when  the  choice  is  open   to  them, 


SHOT  ! 


actually  seem  to  prefer  regions  as  wild  and  rugged  as  they  are  sterile. 
The  tufts  of  grass  between  the  rocks,  the  scanty  blades  that  grow  on  the 
clay  buttes,  suffice  for  their  wants,  and  the  amount  of  climbing  necessary 
to  get  at  them  is  literally  a  matter  of  indifference  to  beasts  whose  muscles 
are  like  whipcord  and  whose  tendons  are  like  steel.  A  big-horn  is  a  mar- 
velous leaper,  perhaps  even  better  when  the  jump  is  perpendicular  than 
when  it  is  horizontal.  His  poise  is  perfect;  his  eye  and  foot  work 
together  with  unerring  accuracy.  One  will  unhesitatingly  bound  or  drop 
a  dozen  feet  on  to  a  little  rock  pinnacle  where  there  is  scarce  a  hand's 
breadth  on  which  to  stand.  The  presence  of  the  tiniest  cracks  in  the 
otherwise  smooth  surface  of  a  sheer  rock  wall  enables  a  mountain  sheep 
to  go  up  it  with  ease.  The  proud,  lordly  bearing  of  an  old  ram  makes 
him  look  exactly  what  he  is,  one  of  the  noblest  of  game  animals ;  his  port 
is  the  same  whether  at  rest  or  in  motion.  Except  when  very  badly  fright- 
ened, his  movements  are  all  made  with  a  certain  self-confident  absence  of 
hurry,  as  if  he  were  conscious  of  a  vast  reserve  power  of  strength  and 
activity  on  which  to  draw  at  need.  As  a  mountaineer  he  is  the  embodi- 
25 


1 62  RANCH    LIFE    AND   THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

ment  of  elastic,  sinewy  strength  and  self-command  rather  than  of  mere 
nervous  agility.  He  hardly  ever  makes  a  mistake,  even  when  rushing  at 
speed  over  the  slipper)-,  ice-coated  crags  in  winter. 

The  most  difficult  of  all  climbine  is  to  eo  over  rocks  when  the  ice  has 
filled  up  all  the  chinks  and  crannies,  and  the  flat  slabs  are  glassy  in  their 
hard  smoothness.  A  black-tail  buck  is  no  mean  climber ;  yet  under  such 
circumstances  I  have  seen  one  lose  his  footing  and  tumble  head  over 
heels,  scraping  great  handfuls  of  hair  off  his  hide ;  but  I  have  never 
known  a  big-horn  to  make  a  misstep.  This  is  undoubtedly  largely  owing 
to  the  difference  between  the  two  animals  in  the  structure  of  their  feet. 
A  sheep's  hoof  is  an  elastic  pad,  only  the  rims  and  the  toe-points  being 
hard,  and  it  thus  gets  a  good  grip  on  the  slightest  projection,  or  on  any 
little  roughness  in  the  rock.  The  tracks  are  very  different  from  deer 
tracks,  being  nearly  square  in  form,  instead  of  heart-shaped,  the  prints 
of  the  toes  rather  deep  and  wide  apart,  even  when  the  animal  has  been 
walking. 

A  band  of  sheep  will  often  seem  to  court  certain  death  by  plunging 
off  the  brink  of  what  looks  like  a  perpendicular  cliff,  where  there  is  not  a 
ledge  or  a  crack  yielding  foot-hold.  In  such  cases,  if  the  cliff  is  high,  it 
will  be  found  on  examination  that  it  is  not  quite  perpendicular,  and  that 
the  sheep,  in  making  the  fearful  descent,  from  time  to  time  touch  or  strike 
the  cliff  with  their  hoofs,  thus  going  down  in  long  bounds,  keeping  their 
poise  all  the  time.  The  final  bound  is  often  made  almost  head  first,  as  if 
they  were  diving. 

Narrow  ledges,  overlooking  an  abyss  the  fathomless  depths  of  which 
would  make  even  a  trained  cragsman  giddy,  are  very  favorite  resorts. 
So  are  the  crests  of  the  ridges  themselves.  If  in  any  patch  of  Bad  Lands 
there  is  an  unusually  high  chain  of  steep,  bare  clay  buttes,  mountain  sheep 
are  sure  to  select  their  tops  as  a  regular  parade-ground.  After  a  rain  the 
clay  takes  their  hoof-prints  as  clearly  as  if  it  were  sealing-wax,  and  all 
along  the  top  of  the  crest  they  beat  out  a  regular  walk  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  with  occasional  little  side-paths  leading  out  to  some  overhanging 
shoulder  or  jutting  spur,  from  whence  there  is  a  good  view  of  the  sur- 
rounding country. 

Generally  the  band  is  led  by  a  ewe  ;  but  in  a  case  of  immediate  and 
pressing  danger  the  ram  assumes  the  headship.  Aside  from  man,  moun- 
tain sheep  have  fewer  foes  than  most  other  game.  Bears  are  too 
clumsy  to  catch  them  ;  and  lynx  and  fox,  inveterate  enemies  of  fawns, 
rarely  get  up  to  the  high,  breezy  nurseries  of  the  young  lambs.  Wolves 
and  cougars,  however,  harass  them  greatly.      A  wolf  will  not  attack  an  old 


THE    BIG-HORN    SHEEP 


163 


ram  if  he  can  help  it,  but  sneaks  after  the  ewes  and  lambs,  waiting  until 
they  get  on  somewhat  level  ground,  and  then  running  one  down  by  sheer 
speed  before  it  can  take  refuge  among  the  secure  fastnesses  of  the 
precipices. 

The  cougar  relies  on  stealth,  not  on  speed,  and  gets  his  game  either  b)- 
fair  stalking  or  else  by  lying  in  wait.  Sometimes  he  can  creep  up  to  a 
band  while  they  are  taking  their  siesta ;  but  generally  they  keep  too  sharp 
a  lookout,  and  he  has  to  approach  them  while  they  are  feeding,  or  when 
they  have  come  down  to  drink.  Some  fifteen  miles  from  my  ranch  is  a 
tract  of  very  rough  country,  the  sides  of  the  hills  falling  off  into  precipices 
or  into  dark,  cedar- clad  gorges.  This  was  a  favorite  resort  of  mountain 
sheep  ;  but  one  spring  a  couple  of  cougars  took  up  their  abode  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  soon  killed  several  of  the  sheep  and  drove  the  others  away. 
Judging  by  the  tracks  and  by  the  position  of  the  carcasses,  they  must  have 
done  the  killing  in  the  morning  and  evening,  creeping  up  to  the  doomed 
animals  as  they  fed  on  the  lower  slopes,  or  lurking  round  the  spring-holes 
and  little  alkali  pools  where  they  drank.  The  great  war  eagle  is  one  of 
the  worst  enemies  of  the  young  lambs. 

In  the  rutting  season  a  ram  will  make  a  good  fight  if  he  has  any  chance 
at  all,  and  at  that  time  is  very  bold  and  pugnacious.  If  followed  by  a 
dog  he  will  frequently  decline  to  run,  turning  to  bay  at  once.  One  hunter 
whom  I  knew  killed  several  in  this  way  by  the  aid  of  a  collie.  Of  course 
it  cannot  be  done  when  once  the  sheep  have  begun  to  realize  that  the  dog 
is  merely  an  ally  of  the  man,  for  they  then  look  out  for  the  latter. 

Sheep  are  easily  tamed,  if  taken  young,  and  make  amusing  pets.  A 
friend  in  Helena,  Montana,  once  owned  a  tame  ram.  When  young  he  was 
a  great  favorite.  He  was  an  inquisitive,  mischievous  creature,  of  marvel- 
ous activity.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  him  out  of  the  garden.  A  single 
hop  would  carry  him  over  the  high  fence ;  if  an  inmate  of  the  house  came 
to  the  rescue,  another  hop  carried  the  intruder  once  more  into  outside 
safety,  and  a  third  took  him  back  again  the  second  the  rescuer  had 
turned  around.  Whenever  he  got  the  chance  he  would  pull  down  the 
clothes  that  had  been  hung  up  to  dry.  When  he  could  get  inside  the 
house  he  was  fond  of  walking  on  the  mantel-piece.  He  was  the  terror  of 
the  Chinese  cook,  whom  he  soon  discovered  to  be  afraid  of  him,  and 
would  lie  in  wait  outside  the  kitchen  door  so  as  to  butt  him  when  he 
appeared.  This  was  at  first  done  in  mere  playfulness ;  but  as  he  grew 
older  he  became  morose  and  quarrelsome,  and  had  to  be  disposed  of 

It  is  impossible  to  hunt  big-horn  successfully  without  some  knowledge 
of  their  habits.     They  go  down  to  drink  in  the  very  late  evening,  or  some- 


1 64  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

times  in  the  gra\-  of  the  morning ;  when  the  moon  is  full  they  may  not 
go  to  the  water  until  long  after  nightfall.  Generally  they  drink  later  than 
any  other  game  ;  but  all  game  vary  their  habits  now  and  then  in  this 
regard.  The  prong-buck,  though  diurnal,  sometimes  comes  to  a  water- 
ing-hole during  the  night ;  and  1  have  once  or  twice  seen  both  deer  and 
sheep  drinking  at  midday. 

In  ordinary  weather  they  begin  to  feed  early  in  the  morning,  and  when 
the  sun  has  risen  some  little  distance  above  the  horizon  they  start  to  graze 
their  wa}'  slowly  up  to  the  high  spur  or  ridge  crest  where  they  intend  to 
lie  during  the  day.  Here  they  stay  until  well  on  in  the  afternoon,  and  then 
again  descend  to  their  feeding-grounds  on  the  lower  slopes.  In  very  cold 
weather,  however,  they  are  apt  to  be  found  grazing  at  midday.  A  raging 
snow  blizzard  may  keep  them  lying  close  under  cover  for  three  days  at  a 
time :  they  naturally  get  ravenous,  and  when  there  is  a  lull,  or  especially 
if  it  is  succeeded  by  a  short  spell  of  good  weather,  they  come  hastily  out  to 
feed,  no  matter  what  the  time  of  day  may  be. 

As  with  almost  all  game  except  antelope,  they  can  be  best  hunted 
in  the  morning  and  evening ;  but,  unlike  deer,  they  can  also  be  followed 
throughout  the  day,  for  whereas  elk,  black-tail,  and  white-tail  have  then  all 
alike  retired  to  the  thickets,  the  big-horn  take  their  noontide  rest  lying  out 
in  plain  view.  If  the  hunter  means  to  catch  them  feeding  he  should 
make  a  very  early  start.  A  good  pair  of  field-glasses  is  of  great  service, 
for  the  two  essential  requisites  to  success  are  the  capacity  to  take  long 
walks  over  rough  ground  and  painstaking  care  in  scanning  the  country 
far  and  wide,  so  as  to  see  the  game  before  it  sees  the  hunter.  There 
is  then  a  chance  to  stalk  up  close,  the  broken  ground  frequently  yielding 
good  cover. 

Often  it  may  be  necessary  to  lie  for  hours  carefully  concealed,  watch- 
ing a  flock  that  is  in  an  unfavorable  position,  and  waiting  until  it  shifts 
its  ground.  This  is  not  very  comfortable  on  a  cold  day  in  November  or 
December,  the  months  in  which  I  have  usually  hunted  big-horn,  devoting 
the  early  fall  to  the  chase  of  elk  and  deer.  But  it  is  often  the  only  way 
to  secure  success :  patience  and  perseverance  are  two  of  the  still-hunter's 
cardinal  virtues.  Personally  I  have  always  owed  whatever  success  I  have 
had  to  dogged  perseverance  and  patient  persistence,  and  on  a  lamentably 
large  number  of  occasions  have  had  to  draw  heavily  on  these  qualities  to 
make  good  a  lack  of  skill,  sometimes  with  the  rifle,  sometimes  in  moun- 
taineering. Among  many  hunting  trips  I  can  recall  not  a  few  where 
willingness  to  lie  still  two  or  three  hours  under  trying  circumstances  in 
the  end  got  me  the  game;  and  one  such  instance  may  serve  as  a  sample 
of  the  rest. 


THE    BIG-HORN    SHEEP  165 

I  was  staying  at  the  line  camp  of  two  of  my  cowboys,  a  small  dug-out 
in  the  side  of  a  butte  that  marked  the  edge  of  the  Bad  Lands,  the  rolling 
prairie  coming  up  to  its  base.  The  quarters  were  cramped  for  three  men, 
an  entire  side  of  the  little  hut  being  filled  by  the  two  bunks  in  which  we 
slept, —  I  in  the  upper,  my  two  companions  in  the  lower, —  while  the  fire- 
place occupied  one  end,  the  mess-box  served  as  a  table,  and  the  earth- 
covered  roof  of  logs  was  so  low  that  we  could  hardly  stand  upright.  Win- 
dow there  was  none  ;  but  it  was  snug,  and,  for  a  line  camp,  clean.  There 
was  plenty  of  fire-wood,  and,  for  a  wonder,  the  chimney  did  not  smoke  ;  so 
we  were  comfortable  enough.  The  butte  itself  served  for  three  out  of  the 
four  walls.  No  other  building  is  so  warm  as  a  dug-out,  and  in  the  terrible 
winter  weather  of  Dakota  and  Montana  warmth  is  the  one  thing  for  which 
all  else  must  be  sacrificed.* 

In  such  high  latitudes  the  December  sun  rises  late.  Long  before  day- 
break we  had  finished  our  breakfast  of  bread,  beans,  and  coffee.  The  two 
cowboys  had  saddled  their  shaggy  ponies  —  which  had  spent  the  night  in 
the  rough  log  stable  —  and  had  ridden  off  in  opposite  directions  along 
their  lonely  beat,  muffled  in  their  wolf-skin  overcoats  and  heavy  shaps  ; 
while  I  strode  off  on  foot  towards  the  high  hills  that  lay  riverward,  my 
rifle  on  my  shoulder  and  my  fur  cap  pulled  down  well  over  my  ears. 

The  cold  was  biting,  for  even  at  noon  the  sun  had  not  power  to  thaw 
the  frozen  ground.  But  there  was  very  little  snow  ;  just  enough  to  powder 
the  hills  and  to  lie  in  patches  in  the  hollows.  I  walked  rapidly  up  a  long 
coulee,  then  climbed  up  a  steep  rounded  hill  and  followed  the  divide  back 
into  the  heart  of  the  Bad  Lands.  By  the  time  I  was  on  my  chosen  hunting- 
grounds  the  sun  had  topped  the  horizon  behind  me,  and  his  level  rays  lit 
up  the  peaks  and  crests. 

The  next  hour  was  spent  in  hard  climbing  and  incessant  watchfulness. 
The  hills  lay  in  isolated  masses.  I  clambered  painfully  up  their  slippery 
sides,  creeping  along  the  narrow  icy  ledges  that  ran  across  the  faces  of  the 
cliffs,  and  cautiously  working  my  way  over  the  smooth  shoulders.  From 
behind  every  ridge  and  spur  I  carefully  examined  the  opposite  hill-sides, 
using  the  field-glasses  if  there  was  scope  for  them.  Sheep,  standing  still  or 
lying  down,  are  often  very  hard  to  see,  their  coats  assimilating  curiously 
with  the  neutral-tinted  cliffs  and  bowlders  ;  but  against  snow  they  of  course 
stand  out  much  more  distinctly. 

At  last,  as  I  lay  peeping  over  the  ragged  crest  of  a  clay  butte,  I  made 
out  a  small  dark  object  half  way  up  a  steep  slope  some  six  hundred  yards 

*  I  have  camped  out  when  the  thermometer  showed  65  degrees  of  frost:    not  — 65°,  as  I  see  I 
once  put  it  by  a  mistake  in  copying  my  rough  field-notes. 


1 66  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUxNTING -TRAIL 

down  the  valley  ;  and  another  look  showed  me  that  it  was  a  ram  feeding 
leisurely  up  the  hill-side.  The  wind  was  good  for  a  direct  approach.  1 
<JOt  off  the  butte  by  carefully  letting  myself  down  from  one  little  ledge  or 
niche  to  another,  and  started  along  the  valley  towards  the  ram,  only  to 
tind  ni)-  way  barred  by  a  deep  chasm  whose  straight,  ice-coated  sides 
yawned  too  far  apart  to  permit  of  any  attempt  at  crossing.  There  was  no 
help  for  it  but  laboriously  to  retrace  my  steps  and  make  my  way  round  its 
head  with  what  speed  I  could.  This  I  did,  the  work  making  me  thor- 
oughly warm  for  the  first  time  that  morning.  Once  across  the  walking- 
was  better,  and  1  went  down  the  valley-side  at  a  good  pace,  until  I  came 
to  a  shoulder  some  two  hundred  yards  from  where  I  had  seen  the  sheep. 
I  was  a  good  deal  higher  than  where  he  had  stood ;  but  in  the  time  I 
had  been  out  of  sight  of  him  he  must  have  gone  up  the  hill  quite  a  dis- 
tance, for  when  I  looked  round  the  shoulder  I  saw  him  about  as  far  off 
as  I  expected,  but  above  instead  of  below  me.  Slow  though  my  move- 
ments had  been  when  I  cautiously  looked  round  the  edge,  they  had  not 
escaped  his  quick  eye  ;  for  when  I  made  him  out  he  was  standing  motion- 
less, gazing  in  my  direction.  Before  I  could  raise  my  rifle  he  gave  a  great 
jump  sideways  and  galloped  off,  disappearing  instantly  behind  a  huge 
mass  of  detached  sandstone,  and  I  never  saw  him  again. 

A  little  chagrined  at  my  fruitless  stalk  I  plodded  on,  doing  much  hard 
climbing  but  seeing  no  signs  of  game  until  nearly  midday.  Then  in  the 
snow  at  the  head  of  a  coulee  I  came  across  the  tracks  of  a  band  evidently 
made  that  morning  while  returning  from  the  feeding-grounds.  I  followed 
them  until  I  became  convinced  that  the  animals  had  gone  to  a  great  table- 
land or  plateau  that  I  could  see  a  good  way  ahead ;  then,  as  the  wind  was 
behind  me,  I  struck  off  to  one  side,  made  a  circle  through  some  very 
rough  country,  and  clambered  out  along  the  knife-like  crests  of  a  line  of 
high  hills  separated  from  the  plateau  by  a  broad  valley.  Every  hundred 
paces  or  so  I  would  stop  and  examine  the  country  far  and  near  with  the 
glasses ;  often  I  had  to  crawl  on  all-fours  to  avoid  appearing  against  the 
sky-line  on  the  ridge. 

At  last  I  caught  sight  of  the  band.  There  were  some  fifteen  or  twenty 
of  them,  and  they  were  lying  at  the  point  of  a  spur  that  was  thrust  out 
from  the  plateau,  nearly  opposite  to  me  and  half  a  mile  off  They  were  in 
a  position  which  it  was  impossible  to  approach  within  six  hundred  yards 
without  being  observed,  for  they  could  see  over  the  level  plateau  behind 
them,  and  from  the  brink  of  the  lofty  cliff  on  which  they  lay  they  looked 
up,  down,  and  across  the  wild,  deep  valley  beneath. 

With  the   glasses    I   could   make   out   that   there  was  no  good   head 


THE    BKi-HORN    SHEEP  167 

among  them ;  but  I  was  out  for  meat  rather  than  for  sport.  They  were 
very  watchful,  ever  on  the  lookout ;  and  as  the  afternoon  wore  on  one  of 
the  more  restless  would  now  and  then  get  up,  walk  off  a  few  steps,  or 
stand  gazing  intently  into  the  far  distance.  There  was  nothing  for  me  to 
do  except  to  wait  until  they  grew  hungry  and  shifted  their  position  to 
some  place  which  there  was  a  chance  of  my  approaching  unseen.  So  for 
three  hours  I  lay  on  the  iron  ground,  under  the  lee  of  a  bowlder  that  but 
partly  shielded  me  from  the  wind,  munching  the  strip  of  jerked  venison  I 
had  carried  in  my  pocket,  and  peeping  at  the  sheep  through  a  tuft  of 
tall,  coarse  grass  that  grew  on  top  of  the  ridge. 

At  last,  when  it  wanted  but  little  more  than  an  hour  of  sunset,  the 
sheep  all  got  on  their  legs,  one  after  another,  and,  led  by  an  old  ewe, 
began  to  descend  into  the  valley.  They  went  down  the  cliff  by  a  sort  of 
break  or  slide,  hopping  dexterously  from  rock  to  rock.  On  coming  to  the 
steep  slope  at  its  foot  they  struck  into  a  trot,  which  merged  into  a  fast 
gallop  as  they  got  nearly  down.  I  feared  that  they  would  stop  before 
coming  to  the  canon  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley ;  but  they  did  not,  cross- 
ing it  without  hesitation,  for  all  its  sheer-sided  and  slippery  depth,  and 
continuing  their  course  towards  the  end  of  the  chain  of  hills  on  which  I 
was,  where  they  halted  to  graze,  after  going  up  nearly  to  the  top.  It 
was  excellent  ground  for  a  stalk.  The  ridge  went  down  to  the  left  in  the 
steep,  grassy  slopes  on  which  they  were  feeding,  while  on  the  right  it 
broke  abruptly  off  into  a  precipice,  with  a  narrow  ledge  high  up  along 
its  face. 

This  ledge  made  the  approach  an  easy  one.  The  only  difficult  places 
were  those  where  the  ledge  was  interrupted,  and  I  had  either  cautiously 
to  make  my  way  along  the  face  of  the  cliff, —  a  very  unpleasant  task,  as 
the  slight  hollows  or  knobs  which  served  me  as  foot-holds  were  slip- 
pery with  ice,  the  risk  of  a  fall  being  thus  enormously  increased, —  or  else 
was  forced  to  go  to  the  top,  and,  sprawling  flat  on  the  smooth  slope,  drag 
myself  along  just  to  one  side  of  the  ridge.  I  had  marked  the  position  of 
the  game  by  a  dwarfed  cedar  that  grew  in  a  crevice  on  the  very  crest.  It 
gave  excellent  cover,  and  on  reaching  it  and  peering  out  through  the 
branches,  I  saw  the  sheep  scattered  out  only  some  sixty  yards  below  me, 
and,  choosing  out  a  fine  young  ram,  I  fired,  breaking  both  shoulders. 
They  all  rushed  together,  and  then  without  an  instant's  pause  raced  madly 
down  the  hill-side,  neither  of  the  two  bullets  that  I  sent  after  them  taking 
effect.  I  had  no  time  to  lose ;  so  I  dressed  the  ram  hastily,  tilted  him  up 
so  that  the  blood  would  run  out,  and  left  him  to  be  called  for  with  the 
pony  next  day.     Then   I   made  the  best  use  of  the  waning  light  to  get 


1 68  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

to  a  long  divide,  furrowed  by  many  buffalo  trails,  which  I  knew  I  could 
ibllow  even  when  it  grew  dark,  and  which  came  out  on  the  prairie  not 
very  far  to  one  side  of  the  line  camp. 

The  day  on  which  I  was  lucky  enough  to  shoot  my  largest  and  hnest 
ram  was  memorable  in  more  ways  than  one.  The  shot  was  one  of  the 
best  I  ever  made, — albeit  the  element  of  chance  doubtless  entered  into  it 
tar  more  largely  than  the  element  of  skill, — and  in  coming  home  from  the 
hunt  I  got  quite  badly  frozen. 

The  da)-  before  we  had  come  back  from  a  week's  trip  after  deer ;  for 
we  were  laying  in  the  winter  stock  of  meat.  We  had  been  camped  far 
down  the  river,  and  had  intended  to  take  two  days  on  the  return  trip,  as 
the  wagon  was  rather  heavily  loaded,  for  we  had  killed  eight  deer.  The 
morning  we  broke  camp  was  so  mild  that  I  did  not  put  on  my  heaviest 
winter  clothing,  starting  off  in  the  same  that  I  had  worn  during  the  past 
few  days'  still-hunting  among  the  hills.  Before  we  had  been  gone  an 
hour,  however,  the  sky  grew  overcast  and  the  wind  began  to  blow  from 
the  north  with  constantly  increasing  vigor.  The  sky  grew  steadily  more 
gloomy  and  lowering,  the  gusts  came  ever  harder  and  harder,  and  by 
noon  the  winter  day  had  darkened  and  a  furious  gale  was  driving  against 
us.  The  blasts  almost  swept  me  from  my  saddle  and  the  teamster  from 
his  seat,  while  we  were  glad  to  wrap  ourselves  in  our  huge  fur  coats  to 
keep  out  the  growing  cold.  Soon  after  midday  the  wagon  suddenly  broke 
down  while  we  were  yet  in  mid-prairie.  It  was  evident  that  we  were  on 
the  eve  of  a  furious  snow-blizzard,  which  might  last  a  few  hours,  or  else, 
perhaps,^as~^many  days.  We  were  miles  from  any  shelter  that  would  per- 
mit us  to  liofht  a  fire  in  the  face  of  such  a  storm  ;  so  we  left  the  wag-on  as 
it  was,  hastily  unharnessed  the  team  horses,  and,  with  the  driver  riding 
one  and  leading  the  other,  struck  off  homeward  at  a  steady  gallop.  Once 
fairly  caught  by  the  blizzard  in  a  country  that  we  only  partly  knew,  it 
would  have  been  hopeless  to  do  more  than  to  try  for  some  ravine  in  which 
to  cower  till  it  was  over ;  so  we  pushed  our  horses  to  their  utmost  pace. 
Our  object  was  to  reach  the  head  coulees  of  a  creek  leading  down  to  the 
river  but  a  few  miles  from  the  ranch.  Could  we  get  into  these  before 
the  snow  struck  us  we  felt  we  would  be  all  right,  for  we  could  then  find 
our  way  home,  even  in  pitch-darkness,  with  the  wind  in  the  quarter  from 
which  it  was  coming.  So,  with  the  storm  on  our  backs,  we  rode  at  full 
speed  through  the  gathering  gloom,  across  the  desolate  reaches  of  prairie. 
The  tough  little  horses,  instead  of  faltering,  went  stronger  mile  by  mile. 
At  last  the  weird  rows  of  hills  loomed  vaguely  up  in  our  front,  and  we 
plunged  into  the  deep  ravines  for  which  we  had  been  heading  just  as  the 


THE    BIG-HORN    SHEEP  169 

whirling  white  wreaths  struck  us — not  the  soft,  feathery  flakes  of  a  sea- 
board snow-storm,  but  fine  ice-dust,  driven  level  by  the  wind,  choking  us, 
blinding  our  eyes,  and  cutting  our  faces  if  we  turned  towards  it  The 
roar  of  the  blizzard  drowned  our  voices  when  we  were  but  six  feet  apart : 
had  it  not  been  on  our  backs  we  could  not  have  gone  a  hundred  yards,  for 
we  could  no  more  face  it  than  we  could  face  a  frozen  sand-blast.  In  an 
instant  the  stranee,  wild  outlines  of  the  hiorh  buttes  between  which  we 
were  riding  were  shrouded  from  our  sight.  We  had  to  grope  our  way 
through  a  kind  of  shimmering  dusk ;  and  when  once  or  twice  we  were 
obliged  by  some  impassable  cliff  or  canon  to  retrace  our  steps,  it  was 
all  that  we  could  do  to  urge  the  horses  even  a  few  paces  against  the 
wind-blown  snow-grains  which  stung  like  steel  filings.  But  this  extreme 
violence  only  lasted  about  four  hours.  The  moon  was  lull,  and  its  beams 
struesfled  through  scuddinof  clouds  and  snow-drift,  so  that  we  reached 
the  ranch  without  difficulty,  and  when  we  got  there  the  wind  had  already 
begun  to  lull.  The  snow  still  fell  thick  and  fast;  but  before  we  went  to 
bed  this  also  showed  signs  of  stopping.  Accordingly  we  determined  that 
we  would  leave  the  wagon  where  it  was  for  a  day  or  two,  and  start  early 
next  morning  for  a  range  of  high  hills  some  ten  miles  oft',  much  haunted  by 
sheep ;  for  we  did  not  wish  to  let  pass  the  chance  of  tracking  the  game 
offered  by  the  first  good  snow  of  the  season. 

Next  morning  we  started  by  starlight.  The  snow  lay  several  inches 
deep  on  the  ground ;  the  whole  land  was  a  dazzling  white.  It  was  very 
cold.  Within  the  ranch  everything  was  frozen  solid  in  spite  of  the  thick 
log  walls  ;  but  the  air  was  so  still  and  clear  that  we  did  not  realize  how  low 
the  temperature  was.  Accordingly,  as  the  fresh  horse  I  had  to  take  was 
young  and  wild,  I  did  not  attempt  to  wear  my  fur  coat.  I  soon  felt  my 
mistake.  The  windless  cold  ate  into  my  marrow ;  and  when,  shortly  after 
the  cloudless  winter  sunrise,  we  reached  our  hunting-grounds  and  picketed 
out  the  horses,  I  was  already  slightly  frost-bitten.  But  the  toil  of  hunting 
over  the  snow-covered  crags  soon  made  me  warm. 

All  day  we  walked  and  climbed  through  a  white  wonderland.  On  every 
side  the  snowy  hills,  piled  one  on  another,  stretched  away,  chain  after 
chain,  as  far  as  sight  could  reach.  The  stern  and  iron-bound  land  had 
been  changed  to  a  frozen  sea  of  billowy,  glittering  peaks  and  ridges.  At 
last,  late  in  the  afternoon,  three  great  big-horn  suddenly  sprang  up  to  our 
right  and  crossed  the  table-land  in  front  of  and  below  us  at  a  strong, 
stretching  gallop.  The  lengthening  sunbeams  glinted  on  their  mighty 
horns ;  their  great  supple  brown  bodies  were  thrown  out  in  bold  relief 
against  the  white  landscape ;  as  they  plowed  with  long  strides  through 
26 


i;o 


RANCH    l.IFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


the  powdery  snow,  their  hoofs  tossed  it  up  in  masses  of  white  spray.  On 
the  left  of  the  plateau  was  a  ridge,  and  as  they  went  up  this  I  twice  fired 
at  the  leading  ram,  my  bullets  striking  under  him.  On  the  summit  he 
stopped  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  back  three  hundred  and  fifty 
Nards  oft","^  and  nn-  third  shot  went  fairly  through  his  lungs.  He  ran  over 
the  hill  as  if  unharmed,  but  lay  down  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  on,  and 
was  dead  when  we  reached  him. 

It  was  after  nightfall  when  we  got  back  to  the  horses,  and  we  rode 
home  by  moonlight.  To  gallop  in  such  weather  insures  freezing ;  so  the 
ponies  shambled  along  at  a  single-foot  trot,  their  dark  bodies  white  with 
hoar-frost,  and  the  long  icicles  hanging  from  their  lips.  The  cold  had 
increased  steadily ;  the  spirit  thermometer  at  the  ranch  showed  26*^  Fah- 
renheit below  zero.  We  had  worked  all  day  without  food  or  rest,  and 
were  very  tired.  On  the  ride  home  I  got  benumbed  before  I  knew  it  and 
froze  my  face,  one  foot,  and  both  knees.  Even  my  companion,  who  had 
a  great-coat,  froze  his  nose  and  cheeks.  Never  was  a  sight  more  welcome 
than  the  gleam  of  the  fire-lit  ranch  windows  to  us  that  night.  But  the 
great  ram's  head  was  a  trophy  that  paid  for  all. 

*  Actual  pacing,  not  guesswork. 


A   MONTANA    COWBOY. 


THE  GAME  OF  THE  HIGH  PEAKS 
THE  WHITE  GOAT 


THE    PONY    OF    THE    NORTHERN    ROCKIES. 


XII 


The  Game  of  the   High   Peaks:     The  Wihte  Goat 


"Vs^^X 


N  the  fall  of  1886  I  went  far  west  to  the  Rockies 
and  took  a  fortnight's  hunting  trip  among  the 
northern  spurs  of  the  Coeur  d'Alene,  between 
the  towns  of  Heron  and  Horseplains  in  Mon- 
tana.     There  are  many  kinds  of  game  to  be 
found  in  the  least  known  or  still  untrodden 
parts  of  this  wooded  mountain  wilderness — 
caribou,    elk,    ungainly    moose    with    great 
shovel    horns,  cougars,   and    bears.      But    I 
did   not  have   time   to   go   deeply   into   the 
heart  of  the  forest-clad  ranges,  and  devoted 
my  entire  energies  to  the  chase  of  but  one 
animal,  the   white   antelope-goat,    then   the 
least  known  and  rarest  of  all  American  game. 

We  started  from  one  of  those  most  dismal  and  forlorn  of  all  places,  a 
dead  mining  town,  on  the  line  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad.  My  fore- 
man, Merrifield,  was  with  me,  and  for  guide  I  took  a  tall,  lithe,  happy- 
go-lucky  mountaineer,  who,  like  so  many  of  the  restless  frontier  race,  was 
born  in  Missouri.  Our  outfit  was  simple,  as  we  carried  only  blankets,  a 
light  wagon  sheet,  the  ever-present  camera,  flour,  bacon,  salt,  sugar,  and 
coffee  :  canned  goods  are  very  unhandy  to  pack  about  on  horseback.  Our 
rifles  and  ammunition,  with  the  few  cooking-utensils  and  a  book  or  two, 
completed  the  list.  Four  solemn  ponies  and  a  ridiculous  little  mule  named 
Walla  Walla  bore  us  and  our  belongings.  The  Missourian  was  an  expert 
packer,  versed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  "  diamond  hitch,"  the  only  arrange- 
ment of  the  ropes  that  will  insure  a  load  staying  in  its  place.  Driving  a 
pack  train  through  the  wooded  paths  and  up  the  mountain  passes  that  we 


172 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 


had  to  traverse  is  hard  work  anyhow,  as  there  are  sure  to  be  accidents 
happening  to  the  animals  all  the  time,  while  their  packs  receive  rough 
treatment  from  jutting  rocks  and  overhanging  branches,  or  from  the  half- 
fallen  tree-trunks  under  which  the  animals  wriggle  ;  and  if  the  loads  are 
continually  coming  loose,  or  slipping  so  as  to  gall  the  horses'  backs  and 
make  them  sore,  the  labor  and  anxiety  are  increased  tenfold. 

In  a  day  or  two  we  were  in  the  heart  of  the  vast  wooded  wilderness. 
A  broad,  lonely  river  ran  through  its  midst,  cleaving  asunder  the  mountain 
chains.  Range  after  range,  peak  upon  peak,  the  mountains  towered  on 
every  side,  the  lower  timbered  to  the  top,  the  higher  with  bare  crests  of 
gray  crags,  or  else  hooded  with  fields  of  shining  snow.  The  deep  valleys 
lay  half  in  darkness,  hemmed  in  by  steep,  timbered  slopes  and  straight 
rock  walls.  The  torrents,  broken  into  glittering  foam  masses,  sprang 
down  through  the  chasms  that  they  had  rent  in  the  sides  of  the  high  hills, 
lingered  in  black  pools  under  the  shadows  of  the  scarred  cliffs,  and  reach- 
ing the  rank,  tree-choked  valleys,  gathered  into  rapid  streams  of  clear 
brown  water,  that  drenched  the  drooping  limbs  of  the  tangled  alders. 
Over  the  whole  land  lay  like  a  shroud  the  mighty  growth  of  the  unbroken 
evergreen  forest — spruce  and  hemlock,  fir,  balsam,  tamarack,  and  lofty 
pine. 

Yet  even  these  vast  wastes  of  shadowy  woodland  were  once  pene- 
trated by  members  of  that  adventurous  and  now  fast  vanishing  folk,  the 
American  frontiersmen.  Once  or  twice,  while  walking  silently  over  the 
spongy  moss  beneath  the  somber  archways  of  the  pines,  we  saw  on  a 
tree-trunk  a  dim,  faint  ax-scar,  the  bark  almost  grown  over  it,  showing 
where,  many  years  before,  some  fur-trapper  had  chopped  a  deeper  blaze 
than  usual  in  making  out  a  "spotted  line" — man's  first  highway  in  the 
primeval  forest;  or  on  some  hill-side  we  would  come  to  the  more  recent, 
but  already  half-obliterated,  traces  of  a  miner's  handiwork.  The  trap- 
per and  the  miner  w^ere  the  pioneers  of  the  mountains,  as  the  hunter 
and  the  cowboy  have  been  the  pioneers  of  the  plains ;  they  are  all  of  the 
same  type,  these  sinewy  men  of  the  border,  fearless  and  self-reliant,  who 
are  ever  driven  restlessly  onward  through  the  wilderness  by  the  half- 
formed  desires  that  make  their  eyes  haggard  and  eager.  There  is  no 
plain  so  lonely  that  their  feet  have  not  trodden  it;  no  mountain  so  far  ofi" 
that  their  eyes  have  not  scanned  its  grandeur. 

We  took  nearly  a  week  in  going  to  our  hunting-grounds  and  out  from 
them  again.  This  was  tedious  work,  for  the  pace  was  slow,  and  it  was 
accompanied  with  some  real  labor.  In  places  the  mountain  paths  were 
very  steep  and   the    ponies   could   with    difficulty  scramble  along   them ; 


THE    GAME    OF    FHE    HIGH    PEAKS:    THE    WHITE    GOAT  17 


/o 


IN     A    CANON     OF    THE     Ca-:i  K     U  ALENE. 


and  once  or  twice  they  got  falls  that  no  animals  less  tough  could  have 
survived,  Walla  Walla  being  the  unfortunate  that  suffered  most.  Often, 
moreover,  we  would  come  to  a  windfall,  where  the  fallen  trees  lay  heaped 


174 


RANCH    LIFE   AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


crosswise  on  one  another  in  the  wildest  confusion,  and  a  road  had  to  be 
cleared  by  ax  work.  It  was  marvelous  to  see  the  philosophy  with  which 
the  wise  litde  beasts  behaved,  picking  their  way  gingerly  through  these 
rough  spots,  hopping  over  fallen  tree-trunks,  or  stepping  between  them 
in  places  where  an  Eastern  horse  would  have  snapped  a  leg  short  off, 
and    walking    composedly    along    narrow    ledges    with    steep    precipices 

below.  They  were  tame  and  friend- 
ly, being  turned  loose  at  night,  and 
not  only  staying  near  by,  but  also 
allowing  themselves  to  be  caught 
without  difficulty  in  the  morning ; 
industriously  gleaning  the  scant 
food  to  be  found  in  the  burnt  places 
or  along  the  edges  of  the  brooks, 
and  often  in  the  evening  standing 
in  a  patient,  solemn  semicircle 
round  the  camp  fire,  just  beyond 
where  we  were  seated.  Walla 
Walla,  the  little  mule,  was  always 
in  scrapes.  Once  we  spent  a  morn- 
ing of  awkward  industry  in  wash- 
ing our  clothes ;  having  finished, 
we  spread  the  half-cleansed  array 
upon  the  bushes  and  departed  on  a  hunt.  On  returning,  to  our  horror 
we  spied  the  miserable  Walla  Walla  shamefacedly  shambling  off  from 
the  neighborhood  of  the  wash,  having  partly  chewed  up  every  individual 
garment  and  completely  undone  all  our  morning's  labor. 

At  first  we  did  not  have  good  weather.  The  Indians,  of  whom  we 
met  a  small  band, — said  to  be  Flatheads  or  their  kin,  on  a  visit  from  the 
coast  region, — had  set  fire  to  the  woods  not  far  away,  and  the  smoke 
became  so  dense  as  to  hurt  our  eyes,  to  hide  the  sun  at  midday,  and  to 
veil  all  objects  from  our  sight  as  completely  as  if  there  had  been  a  heavy 
fog.  Then  we  had  two  days  of  incessant  rain,  which  rendered  our  camp 
none  too  comfortable ;  but  when  this  cleared  we  found  that  it  had  put 
out  the  fire  and  settled  all  the  smoke,  leaving  a  brilliant  sky  overhead. 

We  first  camped  in  a  narrow  valley,  surrounded  by  mountains  so  tall 
that  except  at  noonday  it  lay  in  the  shadow  ;  and  it  was  only  when  we 
were  out  late  on  the  higher  foot-hills  that  we  saw  the  sun  sink  in  a  flame 
behind  the  distant  ranges.  The  trees  grew  tall  and  thick,  the  underbrush 
choking  the  ground  between  their  trunks,  and  their  branches  interlacing 


DOWN     BRAKES  ! 


I 


THE    GAME    OF   THE    HIGH    PEAKS:    THE    WHITE    GOAT 


175 


SO  that  the  sun's  rays  hardly  came  through  them.  There  were  very  few 
open  glades,  and  these  were  not  more  than  a  dozen  rods  or  so  across. 
Even  on  the  mountains  it  was  only  when  we  got  up  very  high  indeed,  or 
when  we  struck  an  occasional  bare  spur,  or  shoulder,  that  we  could  get  a 
glimpse  into  the  open.  Elsewhere  we  could  never  see  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  us,  and  like  all  plainsmen  or  mountaineers  we  at  times  felt 
smothered  under  the  trees,  and  longed  to  be  where  we  could  look  out  lar 
and  wide  on  every  side;  we  felt  as  if  our  heads  were  in  hoods.  A  broad 
brook  whirled  and  eddied  past  our  camp,  and  a  little  below  us  was  caught 
in  a  deep,  narrow  gorge,  where  the  strangling  rocks  churned  its  switt 
current  into  spray  and  foam,  and  changed  its  murmurous  humming  and 
splashing  into  an  angry  roar.  Strange  little  water  wrens — the  water- 
ousel  of  the  books — made  this  brook  their  home.  They  were  shaped 
like  thrushes,  and  sometimes  warbled  sweetly,  yet  they  lived  right  in  the 
torrent,  not  only  flitting  along  the  banks  and  wading  in  the  edges,  but 
plunging  boldly  into  midstream,  and  half  walking,  half  flying  along  the 
bottom,  deep  under  water,  and  perching  on  the  slippery,  spray-covered 
rocks  of  the  waterfall  or  skimming  over  and  through  the  rapids  even 
more  often  than  they  ran  along  the  margins  of  the  deep,  black  pools. 

White-tail  deer  were  plentiful,  and  we  kept  our  camp  abundantly  sup- 
plied with  venison,  varying  it  with  all  the  grouse  that  we  wanted,  and 
with  quantities  of  fresh  trout.  But  I  myself  spent  most  of  my  time  after 
the  quarry  I  had  come  to  get — the  white  goat. 

White  goats  have  been  known  to  hunters  ever  since  Lewis  and  Clarke 
crossed  the  continent,  but  they  have  always  ranked  as  the  very  rarest  and 
most  difficult  to  get  of  all  American  game.  This  reputation  they  owe  to  the 
nature  of  their  haunts,  rather  than  to  their  own  wariness,  for  they  have  been 
so  little  disturbed  that  they  are  less  shy  than  either  deer  or  sheep.  They 
are  found  here  and  there  on  the  highest,  most  inaccessible  mountain  peaks 
down  even  to  Arizona  and  New  Mexico  ;  but  being  fitted  for  cold  climates, 
they  are  extremely  scarce  everywhere  south  of  Montana  and  northern  Idaho, 
and  the  great  majority  even  of  the  most  experienced  hunters  have  hardly 
so  much  as  heard  of  their  existence.  In  Washington  Territory,  northern 
Idaho,  and  north-western  Montana  they  are  not  uncommon,  and  are  plenti- 
ful in  parts  of  the  mountain  ranges  of  British  America  and  Alaska.  Their 
preference  for  the  highest  peaks  is  due  mainly  to  their  dislike  of  warmth, 
and  in  the  north — even  south  of  the  Canadian  line — they  are  found  much 
lower  down  the  mountains  than  is  the  case  farther  south.  They  are  very 
conspicuous  animals,  with  their  snow-white  coats  and  polished  black  horns, 

but  their  pursuit  necessitates  so  much  toil  and  hardship  that  not  one  in  ten 

27 


Ijb  RANCH    MFK    AND    THP:    HUNTINO-TRAIL 

of  the  professional  hunters  has  ever  killed  one ;  and  I  know  of  but  one  or 
two  Eastern  sportsmen  who  can  boast  a  goat's  head  as  a  trophy.  But 
this  will  soon  cease  to  be  the  case ;  for  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  has 
opened  the  haunts  where  the  goats  are  most  plentiful,  and  any  moderately 
adventurous  and  hardy  rifleman  can  be  sure  of  getting  one  by  taking  a 
little  time,  and  that,  too,  whether  he  is  a  skilled  hunter  or  not,  since  at 
present  the  game  is  not  difficult  to  approach.  The  white  goat  will  be 
common  long  after  the  elk  has  vanished,  and  it  has  already  outlasted 
the  buftalo.  Few  sportsmen  henceforth  —  indeed,  hardly  any — will  ever 
boast  a  buffalo  head  of  their  own  killino^ ;  but  the  number  of  riflemen  who 
can  place  to  their  credit  the  prized  white  fleeces  and  jet-black  horns  will 
steadily  increase. 

The  Missourian,  during  his  career  as  a  Rocky  Mountain  hunter,  had 
killed  five  white  goats.  The  first  he  had  shot  near  Canyon  City,  Colorado, 
and  never  having  heard  of  any  such  animal  before  had  concluded  afterward 
that  it  was  one  of  a  flock  of  recently  imported  Angora  goats,  and  accord- 
ingly, to  avoid  trouble,  buried  it  where  it  lay  ;  and  it  was  not  until  fourteen 
years  later,  when  he  came  up  to  the  Coeur  d'Alene  and  shot  another,  that 
he  became  aware  of  what  he  had  killed.  He  described  them  as  being  bold, 
pugnacious  animals,  not  easily  startled,  and  extremely  tenacious  of  life. 
Once  he  had  set  a  large  hound  at  one  which  he  came  across  while 
descending  an  ice-swollen  river  in  early  spring.  The  goat  made  no 
attempt  to  flee  or  to  avoid  the  hound,  but  coolly  awaited  its  approach  and 
killed  it  with  one  wicked  thrust  of  the  horns ;  for  the  latter  are  as  sharp  as 
needles,  and  are  used  for  stabbing,  not  butting.  Another  time  he  caught 
a  goat  in  a  bear  trap  set  on  a  game  trail.  Its  leg  was  broken,  and  he  had 
to  pack  it  out  on  pony-back,  a  two-days'  journey,  to  the  settlement ;  yet 
in  spite  of  such  rough  treatment  it  lived  a  week  after  it  got  there,  when, 
unfortunately,  the  wounded  leg  mortified.  It  fought  most  determinedly, 
but  soon  became  reconciled  to  captivity,  eating  with  avidity  all  the  grass 
it  was  given,  recognizing  its  keeper,  and  grunting  whenever  he  brought  it 
food  or  started  to  walk  away  before  it  had  had  all  it  wished.  The  goats 
he  had  shot  lived  in  ground  where  the  walking  was  tiresome  to  the  last 
degree,  and  where  it  was  almost  impossible  not  to  make  a  good  deal  of 
noise ;  and  nothing  but  their  boldness  and  curiosity  enabled  him  ever  to 
kill  any.  One  he  shot  while  waiting  at  a  pass  for  deer.  The  goat,  an  old 
male,  came  up,  and  fairly  refused  to  leave  the  spot,  walking  round  in  the 
underbrush  and  finally  mounting  a  great  fallen  log,  where  he  staid  snort- 
ing and  stamping  angrily  until  the  Missourian  lost  patience  and  killed  him. 

For  three  or  four  days  I  hunted  steadily  and  without  success,  and  it 


THE    GAME    OF   THE    HIGH    PEAKS:    THE   WHITE    GOAT 


^11 


was  as  hard  work  as  any  that  I  had  ever  undertaken.  Both  Merrifield  and 
I  were  accustomed  to  a  life  in  the  saddle,  and  although  we  had  varied  it  with 
an  occasional  long  walk  after  deer  or  sheep,  yet  we  were  utterly  unable  to 


THE     INDIANS     WE     MET. 


cope  with  the  Missourian  when  it  came  to  mountaineering.  When  we  had 
previously  hunted,  in  the  Big  Horn  Mountains,  we  had  found  stout  moc- 
casins most  comfortable,  and  extremely  useful  for  still-hunting  through  the 
great  woods  and  among  the  open  glades ;  but  the  multitudinous  sharp 
rocks  and  sheer,  cliff-like  slopes  of  the  Coeur  d'x^lene  rendered  our  moc- 
casins absolutely  useless,  for  the  first  day's  tramp  bruised  our  feet  till  they 
were  sore  and  slit  our  foot-gear  into  ribbons,  besides  tearing  our  clothes. 
Merrifield  was  then  crippled,  having  nothing  else  but  his  cowboy  boots  ; 
fortunately,  I  had  taken  in  addition  a  pair  of  shoes  with  soles  thickly  studded 
with  nails. 

We  would  start  immediately  after  breakfast  each  morning,  carrying  a 


178  RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING -TRAIL 

light  lunch  in  our  pockets,  and  go  straight  up  the  mountain  sides  for 
hours  at  a  time,  varying  it  by  skirting  the  broad,  terrace-like  ledges,  or 
by  clambering  along  the  cliff  crests.  The  climbing  was  very  hard.  The 
slope  was  so  steep  that  it  was  like  going  upstairs ;  now  through  loose 
earth,  then  through  a  shingle  of  pebbles  or  sand,  then  over  rough  rocks, 
and  again  over  a  layer  of  pine  needles  as  smooth  and  slippery  as  glass, 
w  hile  brittle,  dry  sticks  that  snapped  at  a  touch,  and  loose  stones  that 
rattled  down  if  so  much  as  brushed,  strewed  the  ground  everywhere,  the 
climber  stumbling  and  falling  over  them  and  finding  it  almost  absolutely 
impossible  to  proceed  without  noise,  unless  at  a  rate  of  progress  too  slow 
to  admit  of  getting  anywhere.  Often,  too,  we  would  encounter  dense 
underbrush,  perhaps  a  thicket  of  little  burnt  balsams,  as  prickly  and  brittle 
as  so  much  coral ;  or  else  a  heavy  growth  of  laurel,  all  the  branches  point- 
ing downward,  and  to  be  gotten  through  only  by  main  force.  Over  all 
grew  the  vast  evergreen  forest,  except  where  an  occasional  cliff  jutted 
out,  or  where  there  were  great  land-slides,  each  perhaps  half  a  mile  long 
and  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  across,  covered  with  loose  slates  or  granite 
bowlders. 

We  always  went  above  the  domain  of  the  deer,  and  indeed  saw  few 
evidences  of  life.  Once  or  twice  we  came  to  the  round  foot-prints  of  cou- 
gars, which  are  said  to  be  great  enemies  of  the  goats,  but  we  never  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  sly  beasts  themselves.  Another  time  I  shot  a  sable  from 
a  spruce,  up  which  the  little  fox-headed  animal  had  rushed  with  the  agility 
of  a  squirrel.  There  were  plenty  of  old  tracks  of  bear  and  elk,  but  no  new 
ones ;   and  occasionally  we  saw  the  foot-marks  of  the  great  timber  wolf. 

But  the  trails  at  which  we  looked  with  the  most  absorbed  interest  were 
those  that  showed  the  large,  round  hoof-marks  of  the  white  goats.  They 
had  worn  deep  paths  to  certain  clay  licks  in  the  slides,  which  they  must 
have  visited  often  in  the  early  spring,  for  the  trails  were  little  traveled 
when  we  were  in  the  mountains  during  September.  These  clay  licks 
were  mere  holes  in  the  banks,  and  were  in  spring-time  visited  by  other 
animals  besides  goats ;  there  were  old  deer  trails  to  them.  The  clay 
seemed  to  contain  something  that  both  birds  and  beasts  were  fond  of,  for 
I  frequently  saw  flocks  of  cross-bills  light  in  the  licks  and  stay  there  for 
many  minutes  at  a  time,  scratching  the  smooth  surface  with  their  little 
claws  and  bills.  The  goat  trails  led  away  in  every  direction  from  the  licks, 
but  usually  went  up-hill,  zigzagging  or  in  a  straight  line,  and  continually 
growing  fainter  as  they  went  farther  off,  where  the  animals  scattered  to 
their  feeding-grounds.  In  the  spring-time  the  goats  are  clad  with  a  dense 
coat  of  long  white  wool,  and  there  were  shreds  and  tufts  of  this  on  all  the 


I 


THE    GAME    OF   THE    HIGH    PEAKS:    THE    WHITE    GOAT 


179 


twigs  of  the  bushes  under  which  the  paths  passed  ;  in  the  early  fall  the 
coat  is  shorter  and  less  handsome. 

Although  these  game  paths  were  so  deeply  worn,  they  yet  showed  very 
little  fresh  goat  sign  ;  in  fact,  we  came  across  the  recent  trails  of  but  two  of 
the  animals  we  were  after.  One  of  these  we  came  quite  close  to,  but  never 
saw  it,  for  we  must  have  frightened  it  by  the  noise  we  made ;  it  certainly, 
to  judge  by  its  tracks,  which  we  followed  for  a  long  time,  took  itself  straight 
out  of  the  country.  The  other  I  finally  got,  after  some  heart-breaking  work 
and  a  complicated  series  of  faults  committed  and  misfortunes  endured. 

I  had  been,  as  usual,  walking  and  clambering  over  the  mountains  all 
day  long,  and  in  mid-afternoon  reached  a  great  slide,  with  half-way  across 
it  a  tree.  Under  this  I  sat  down  to  rest,  my  back  to  the  trunk,  and  had 
been  there  but  a  few  minutes  when  my  companion,  the  Missourian,  sud- 
denly whispered  to  me  that  a  goat  was  coming  down  the  slide  at  its  edge, 
near  the  woods.  I  was  in  a  most  uncomfortable  position  for  a  shot.  Twist- 
ing my  head  round,  I  could  see  the  goat  waddling  down-hill,  looking  just 
like  a  handsome  tame  billy,  especially  when  at  times  he  stood  upon  a 
stone  to  glance  around,  with  all  four  feet  close  together.  I  cautiously  tried 
to  shift  my  position,  and  at  once  dislodged  some  pebbles,  at  the  sound  of 
which  the  goat  sprang  promptly  up  on  the  bank,  his  whole  mien  changing 
into  one  of  alert,  alarmed  curiosity.  He  was  less  than  a  hundred  yards 
off,  so  I  risked  a  shot,  all  cramped  and  twisted  though  I  was.  But  my 
bullet  went  low  ;  I  only  broke  his  left  fore-leg,  and  he  disappeared  over 
the  bank  like  a  flash.  We  raced  and  scrambled  after  him,  and  the  Missou- 
rian, an  excellent  tracker,  took  up  the  bloody  trail.  It  went  along  the 
hill-side  for  nearly  a  mile,  and  then  turned  straight  up  the  mountain,  the 
Missourian  leading  with  his  long,  free  gait,  while  I  toiled  after  him  at  a 
dogged  trot.  The  trail  went  up  the  sharpest  and  steepest  places,  skirting 
the  cliffs  and  precipices.  At  one  spot  I  nearly  came  to  grief  for  good  and 
all,  for  in  running  along  a  shelving  ledge,  covered  with  loose  slates,  one 
of  these  slipped  as  I  stepped  on  it.  throwing  me  clear  over  the  brink. 
However,  I  caught  in  a  pine  top,  bounced  down  through  it,  and  brought 
up  in  a  balsam  with  my  rifle  all  right,  and  myself  unhurt  except  for  the 
shaking.  I  scrambled  up  at  once  and  raced  on  after  my  companion,  whose 
limbs  and  wind  seemed  alike  incapable  of  giving  out.  This  work  lasted 
for  a  couple  of  hours. 

The  trail  came  into  a  regular  game  path  and  grew  fresher,  the  goat 
having  stopped  to  roll  and  wallow  in  the  dust  now  and  then.  Suddenly, 
on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  we  came  upon  him  close  up  to  us.  He  had  just 
risen   from  rolling  and  stood  behind  a  huge  fallen  log,  his  back  barely 


I  So 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


showing"  above  it  as  he  turned  his  head  to  look  at  us.  I  was  completely- 
winded,  and  had  lost  ni)-  strength  as  well  as  my  breath,  while  great  bead- 
like drops  of  sweat  stood  in  my  eyes  ;  but  I  steadied  myself  as  well  as  I 
could  and  aimed  to  break  the  backbone,  the  only  shot  open  to  me,  and  not 
a  difhcult  one  at  such  a  short  distance.     However,  my  bullet  went  just  too 


THE    FIRST     SHOT. 


high,  cutting  the  skin  above  the  long  spinal  bones  over  the  shoulders ;  and 
the  speed  with  which  that  three-legged  goat  went  down  the  precipitous 
side  of  the  mountain  would  have  done  credit  to  an  antelope  on  the  level. 
Weary  and  disgusted,  we  again  took  up  the  trail.  It  led  straight 
down-hill,  and  we  followed  it  at  a  smart  pace.  Down  and  down  it  went, 
into  the  valley  and  straight  to  the  edge  of  the  stream,  but  half  a  mile  above 
camp.  The  goat  had  crossed  the  water  on  a  fallen  tree-trunk,  and  we  took 
the  same  path.  Once  across,  it  had  again  gone  right  up  the  mountain. 
We  followed  it  as  fast  as  we  could,  although  pretty  nearly  done  out,  until 
it  was  too  dark  to  see  the  blood  stains  any  longer,  and  then  returned  to 
camp,  dispirited  and  so  tired  that  we  could  hardly  drag  ourselves  along, 
for  we  had  been  going  at  speed  for  five  hours,  up  and  down  the  roughest 
and  steepest  ground. 


THE    GAME    OF   THE    HIGH    PEAKS:    THE    WHITE    GOAT  i8i 

But  we  were  confident  that  the  goat  would  not  travel  far  with  such  a 
wound  after  he  had  been  chased  as  we  had  chased  him.  Next  morning 
at  daybreak  we  again  climbed  the  mountain  and  took  up  the  trail.  Soon 
it  led  into  others  and  we  lost  it,  but  we  kept  up  the  hunt  nevertheless  for 
hour  after  hour,  making  continually  wider  and  wider  circles.  At  last, 
about  midday,  our  perseverance  was  rewarded,  for  coming  silently  out  on  a 
great  bare  cliff  shoulder,  I  spied  the  goat  lying  on  a  ledge  below  me  and 
some  seventy  yards  off.  This  time  I  shot  true,  and  he  rose  only  to  fall 
back  dead ;  and  a  minute  afterward  we  were  standing  over  him,  handling 
the  glossy  black  horns  and  admiring  the  snow-white  coat. 

After  this  we  struck  our  tent  and  shifted  camp  some  thirty  miles  to  a 
wide  valley  through  whose  pine-clad  bottom  flowed  a  river,  hurrying  on 
to  the  Pacific  between  unending  forests.  On  one  hand  the  valley  was 
hemmed  in  by  an  unbroken  line  of  frowning  cliffs,  and  on  the  other  by 
chains  of  lofty  mountains  in  whose  sides  the  ravines  cut  deep  gashes. 

The  clear  weather  had  grown  colder.  At  night  the  frost  skimmed 
with  thin  ice  the  edges  of  the  ponds  and  small  lakes  that  at  long  intervals 
dotted  the  vast  reaches  of  woodland.  But  we  were  very  comfortable,  and 
hardly  needed  our  furs,  for  as  evening  fell  we  kindled  huge  fires,  to  give 
us  both  light  and  warmth ;  and  even  in  very  cold  weather  a  man  can 
sleep  out  comfortably  enough  with  no  bedding  if  he  lights  two  fires  and 
gets  in  between  them,  or  finds  a  sheltered  nook  or  corner  across  the 
front  of  which  a  single  great  blaze  can  be  made.  The  long  walks  and  our 
work  as  cragsmen  hardened  our  thews,  and  made  us  eat  and  sleep  as  even 
our  life  on  the  ranch  could  hardly  do :  the  mountaineer  must  always  be 
more  sinewy  than  the  horseman.  The  clear,  cold  water  of  the  swift 
streams  too  was  a  welcome  change  from  the  tepid  and  muddy  currents  of 
the  rivers  of  the  plains ;  and  we  heartily  enjoyed  the  baths,  a  plunge  into 
one  of  the  icy  pools  making  us  gasp  for  breath  and  causing  the  blood  to 
tingle  in  our  veins  with  the  shock. 

Our  tent  was  pitched  in  a  little  glade,  which  was  but  a  few  yards 
across,  and  carpeted  thickly  with  the  red  kinnikinic  berries,  in  their 
season  beloved  of  bears,  and  from  the  leaves  of  which  bush  the  Indians 
make  a  substitute  for  tobacco.  Little  three-toed  woodpeckers  with  yellow 
crests  scrambled  about  over  the  trees  near  by,  while  the  great  log- cocks 
hammered  and  rattled  on  the  tall  dead  trunks.  Jays  that  were  dark  blue 
all  over  came  familiarly  round  camp  in  company  with  the  ever-present 
moose-birds  or  whisky  jacks.  There  were  many  grouse  in  the  woods,  of 
three  kinds, — blue,  spruce,  and  ruffed, — and  these  varied  our  diet  and 
also  furnished  us  with  some  sport  with  our  rifles,  as  we  always  shot  them 


lS2  RAXeH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

in  rivalry.  That  is.  each  would  take  a  shot  in  turn,  aiming  at  the  head 
of  the  bird,  as  it  perched  motionless  on  the  limb  of  a  tree  or  stopped  for  a 
second  while  running  along  the  ground  ;  then  if  he  missed  or  hit  the  bird 
an)  where  but  in  the  head,  the  other  scored  one  and  took  the  shot.  The 
resulting  tally  was  a  good  test  of  comparative  skill ;  and  rivalry  always 
tends  to  keep  a  man's  shooting  up  to  the  mark. 

Once  or  twice,  when  we  had  slain  deer,  we  watched  by  the  carcasses, 
hoping  that  they  would  attract  a  bear,  or  perhaps  one  of  the  huge  timber 
wolves  whose  mournful,  sinister  howling  we  heard  each  night.  But  there 
were  no  bears  in  the  valley ;  and  the  wolves,  those  cruel,  crafty  beasts, 
were  far  too  cunning  to  come  to  the  bait  while  we  were  there.  We  saw 
nothing  but  crowds  of  ravens,  whose  hoarse  barking  and  croaking  filled 
the  air  as  they  circled  around  overhead,  lighted  in  the  trees,  or  quarreled 
over  the  carcass.  Yet  although  we  saw  no  game  it  was  very  pleasant  to 
sit  out.  on  the  still  evenings,  among  the  tall  pines  or  on  the  edge  of  a 
great  gorge,  until  the  afterglow  of  the  sunset  was  dispelled  by  the  beams 
ot  the  Irosty  moon.  Now  and  again  the  hush  would  be  suddenly  broken 
by  the  long  howling  of  a  wolf,  that  echoed  and  rang  under  the  hollow 
woods  and  through  the  deep  chasms  until  they  resounded  again,  while  it 
made  our  hearts  bound  and  the  blood  leap  in  our  veins.  Then  there 
would  be  silence  once  more,  broken  only  by  the  rush  of  the  river  and  the 
low  moaning  and  creaking  of  the  pines ;  or  the  strange  calling  of  the 
owls  might  be  answered  by  the  far-off,  unearthly  laughter  of  a  loon,  its 
voice  carried  through  the  stillness  a  marvelous  distance  from  the  little 
lake  on  which  it  was  swimming. 

One  day,  after  much  toilsome  and  in  places  almost  dangerous  work,  we 
climbed  to  the  very  top  of  the  nearest  mountain  chain,  and  from  it  looked 
out  over  a  limitless,  billowy  field  of  snow-capped  ranges.  Up  above  the 
timber  line  were  snow-grouse  and  huge,  hoary-white  woodchucks,  but  no 
trace  of  the  game  we  were  after ;  for,  rather  to  our  surprise,  the  few  goat 
signs  that  we  saw  were  in  the  timber.  I  did  not  catch  another  glimpse 
of  the  animals  themselves  until  my  holiday  was  almost  over  and  we  were 
preparing  to  break  camp.  Then  I  saw  two.  I  had  spent  a  most  labo- 
rious day  on  the  mountain  as  usual,  following  the  goat  paths,  which  were 
well-trodden  trails  leading  up  the  most  inaccessible  places ;  certainly  the 
white  goats  are  marvelous  climbers,  doing  it  all  by  main  strength  and 
perfect  command  over  their  muscles,  for  they  are  heavy,  clumsy  seeming 
animals,  the  reverse  of  graceful,  and  utterly  without  any  look  of  light 
agility.  As  usual,  towards  evening  I  was  pretty  well  tired  out,  for  it 
w^ould  be  difficult  to   imagine  harder  work   than  to  clamber  unendingly 


THE    GAME    OE    THE    HIGH    PEAKS:     THE    WHITE    GOAT 


183 


up  and  down  the  huge  cHffs.  I  came  down  along  a  great  jutting  spur, 
broken  by  a  series  of  precipices,  with  flat  terraces  at  their  feet,  the  ter- 
races being  covered  with  trees  and  bushes,  and  running,  with  many 
breaks  and  interruptions,  parallel  to   each  other   across  the  face  of  the 


STALKING    GOATS. 


mountains.  On  one  of  these  terraces  was  a  space  of  hard  clay  ground 
beaten  perfectly  bare  of  vegetation  by  the  hoofs  of  the  goats,  and,  in  the 
middle,  a  hole,  two  or  three  feet  in  width,  that  was  evidently  in  the  spring 
used  as  a  lick.  Most  of  the  tracks  were  old,  but  there  was  one  trail  com- 
ing diagonally  down  the  side  of  the  mountain  on  which  there  were  two  or 
three  that  were  very  fresh.  It  was  getting  late,  so  I  did  not  stay  long, 
but  continued  the  descent.  The  terrace  on  which  the  lick  was  situated 
lay  but  a  few  hundred  yards  above  the  valley,  and  then  came  a  level, 
marshy  plain  a  quarter  of  a  mile  broad,  between  the  base  of  the  mountain 

and  the  woods.      Leading  down   to  this  plain  was  another  old  goat-trail, 

28 


i84 


RANCH    LIFE    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 


which  went  to  a  small,  boggy  pool,  which  the   goats  must  certainly  have 
often  visited  in  the  spring ;   but  it  was  then  unused. 

When  I  reached  the  farther  side  of  the  plain  and  was  about  entering 
the  woods.  I  turned  to  look  over  the  mountain  once  more,  and  my  eye  was 


THK     WHIIK     GOA  I      AT     HOMK, 


immediately  caught  by  two  white  objects  which  were  moving  along  the  ter- 
race, about  half  a  mile  to  one  side  of  the  lick.  That  they  were  goats  was 
evident  at  a  glance,  their  white  bodies  contrasting  sharply  with  the  green 
vegetation.  They  came  along  very  rapidly,  giving  me  no  time  to  get  back 
ov^er  the  plain,  and  stopped  for  a  short  time  at  the  lick,  right  in  sight  from 
where  I  was,  although  too  far  off  for  me  to  tell  anything  about  their  size. 
I  think  they  smelt  my  footprints  in  the  soil ;  at  any  rate  they  were  very 
watchful,  one  of  them  always  jumping  up  on  a  rock  or  fallen  log  to  mount 


THE    GAME    OF   THE    HICxH    PEAKS:    THE    WHITE    GOAT  185 

guard  when  the  other  halted  to  browse.  The  sun  had  just  set;  it  was 
impossible  to  advance  across  the  open  plain,  which  they  scanned  at  every 
glance ;  and  to  skirt  it  and  climb  up  any  other  place  than  the  pass  down 
which  I  had  come  —  itself  a  goat-trail  —  would  have  taken  till  long  after 
nightfall.  All  that  I  could  do  was  to  stay  where  I  was  and  watch  them, 
until  in  the  dark  I  slipped  off  unobserved  and  made  the  best  of  my  way  to 
camp,  resolved  to  hunt  them  up  on  the  morrow. 

Shortly  after  noon  next  day  we  were  at  the  terrace,  having  approached 
with  the  greatest  caution,  and  only  after  a  minute  examination,  with  the 
field-glasses,  of  all  the  neighboring  mountain.  I  wore  moccasins,  so  as  to 
make  no  noise.  We  soon  found  that  one  of  the  trails  was  evidently  regu- 
larly traveled,  probably  every  evening,  and  we  determined  to  lie  in  wait  by 
it,  so  as  either  to  catch  the  animals  as  they  came  down  to  feed,  or  else  to 
mark  them  if  they  got  out  on  some  open  spot  on  the  terraces  where  they 
could  be  stalked.  As  an  ambush  we  chose  a  ledgfe  in  the  cliff  below  a  ter- 
race,  with,  in  front,  a  breastwork  of  the  natural  rock  some  five  feet  high. 
It  was  perhaps  fifty  yards  from  the  trail.  I  hid  myself  on  this  ledge, 
havang  arranged  on  the  rock  breastwork  a  few  pine  branches  through 
which  to  fire,  and  waited,  hour  after  hour,  continually  scanning  the  moun- 
tain carefully  with  the  glasses.  There  was  very  little  life.  Occasionally  a 
chickaree  or  chipmunk  scurried  out  from  among  the  trunks  of  the  great 
pines  to  pick  up  the  cones  which  he  had  previously  bitten  off  from  the 
upper  branches ;  a  noisy  Clarke's  crow  clung  for  some  time  in  the  top  of  a 
hemlock;  and  occasionally  flocks  of  cross-bill  went  by,  with  swift  undula- 
ting flight  and  low  calls.  From  time  to  time  I  peeped  cautiously  over  the 
pine  branches  on  the  breastwork ;  and  the  last  time  I  did  this  I  suddenh- 
saw  two  goats,  that  had  come  noiselessly  down,  standing  motionless 
directly  opposite  to  me,  their  suspicions  evidently  aroused  by  something. 
I  gently  shoved  the  rifle  over  one  of  the  boughs ;  the  largest  goat  turned 
its  head  sharply  round  to  look,  as  it  stood  quartering  to  me,  and  the  bul- 
let went  fairly  through  the  lungs.  Both  animals  promptly  ran  off  along 
the  terrace,  and  I  raced  after  them  in  my  moccasins,  skirting  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  where  there  were  no  trees  or  bushes.  As  I  made  no  noise  and  could 
run  very  swiftly  on  the  bare  cliff  edge,  I  succeeded  in  coming  out  into  the 
first  little  glade,  or  break,  in  the  terrace  at  the  same  time  that  the  goats 
did.  The  first  to  come  out  of  the  bushes  was  the  big  one  I  had  shot  at, 
an  old  she,  as  it  turned  out ;  while  the  other,  a  yearling  ram,  followed. 
The  big  one  turned  to  look  at  me  as  she  mounted  a  fallen  tree  that  lay 
across  a  chasm-like  rent  in  the  terrace  ;  the  light  red  frothy  blood  covered 
her  muzzle,  and  I  paid  no  further  heed  to  her  as  she  slowly  walked  along 
the  log,  but  bent  my  attention  towards  the  yearling,  which  was  galloping 


1 86  RANCH    1,1  KK    AND    THE    HUNTING-TRAIL 

and  scrambling"  up  an  almost  perpendicular  path  that  led  across  the  face  of 
the  clift'  above.  Holding  my  rifle  just  over  it,  I  fired,  breaking  the  neck 
of  the  goat,  and  it  rolled  down  some  fifty  or  sixty  yards,  almost  to  where  1 
stood.  I  then  went  after  the  old  goat,  which  had  lain  down  ;  as  I  ap- 
proached she  feebly  tried  to  rise  and  show  fight,  but  her  strength  was 
spent,  her  blood  had  ebbed  away,  and  she  fell  back  lifeless  in  the  effort. 
They  were  both  good  specimens,  the  old  one  being  unusually  large,  with 
fine  horns.  White  goats  are  squat,  heavy  beasts  ;  not  so  tall  as  black-tail 
deer,  but  weighing  more. 

Earl)-  next  morning  I  came  back  with  my  two  men  to  where  the  goats 
were  lying,  taking  along  the  camera.  Having  taken  their  photographs 
and  skinned  them  we  went  back  to  camp,  hunted  up  the  ponies  and  mules, 
who  had  been  shifting  for  themselves  during  the  past  few  days,  packed  up 
our  tent,  trophies,  and  other  belongings,  and  set  off  for  the  settlements, 
well  pleased  with  our  trip. 

All  mountain  game  yields  noble  sport,  because  of  the  nerve,  daring,  and 
physical  hardihood  implied  in  its  successful  pursuit.  The  chase  of  the 
white  goat  involves  extraordinary  toil  and  some  slight  danger  on  account 
of  the  extreme  roughness  and  inaccessibility  of  its  haunts ;  but  the  beast 
itself  is  less  shy  than  the  mountain  sheep.  How  the  chase  of  either  com- 
pares in  difficulty  with  that  of  the  various  Old  World  mountain  game  it 
would  be  hard  to  say.  Men  who  have  tried  both  say  that,  though  there  is 
not  in  Europe  the  chance  to  try  the  adventurous,  wandering  life  of  the 
wilderness  so  beloved  by  the  American  hunter,  yet  when  it  comes  to  com- 
paring the  actual  chase  of  the  game  of  the  two  worlds,  it  needs  greater 
skill,  both  as  cragsman  and  still-hunter,  to  kill  ibex  and  chamois  in  the 
Alps  or  Pyrenees — by  fair  stalking  I  mean ;  for  if  they  are  driven  to  the 
guns,  as  is  sometimes  done,  the  sport  is  of  a  very  inferior  kind,  not  rising 
above  the  methods  of  killing  white-tail  in  the  Eastern  States,  or  of  driving 
deer  in  Scotland.  I  myself  have  had  no  experience  of  Old  World  moun- 
taineering, beyond  two  perfectly  conventional  trips  up  the  Matterhorn  and 
Jungfrau — on  the  latter,  by  the  way,  I  saw  three  chamois  a  long  way  off 

My  brother  has  done  a  good  deal  of  ibex,  mountain  sheep,  and  mark- 
hoor  shooting  in  Cashmere  and  Thibet,  and  I  suppose  the  sport  to  be  had 
among  the  tremendous  mountain  masses  of  the  Himalayas  must  stand 
above  all  other  kinds  of  hill  shooting ;  yet,  after  all,  it  is  hard  to  believe 
that  it  can  yield  much  more  pleasure  than  that  felt  by  the  American  hunter 
when  he  follows  the  lordly  elk  and  the  grizzly  among  the  timbered  slopes 
of  the  Rockies,  or  the  big-horn  and  the  white-fleeced,  jet-horned  antelope- 
goat  over  their  towering  and  barren  peaks. 


V> 


lOS 


Wibster  FamHy  Library  of  Veterinary  Me<tori^ 

^»»aings  School  c  ■  V^tennary  Mediane  at 

Turts  University 

200  Westboro  Road 

Neftti  Grafton.  MA  01536 


